Monday 1 November 2010

Master of the Universe:

When a fellow with impaired equilibrium grabs a lamppost, does he it for standing or for spinning the world?


What is that makes the world goes round? There are sex and money. And generally all the serious business. Right. So we see a world as meaningful because we are occupied in serious activities. Ok tell me what are the serious activities: working, loving, fighting, having fun? Is that all? For sure then our shaky fellow is just one of the unfortunate (for that night). You can pass by, no problem. But what if the meaning of the world comes from the pure gratuity of being there? What if the meaning is just the absence of a goal in being there? What if being there were already the completion and its representation an eternal fractal interpretation?


Try to see the world of men as a wheel of stories. Try to see all the pain and the joy as (true!) projections of representing brains. Try to see goals and targets as painted background on stage.
Now look at the shaky fellow. He grabs a lamppost because this is his job. He pushes walls and blows boulevards, because he's moving the world. Seriously. I'm sure you're nauseated by this confusion of metaphorical speech.


The answer is: do the disarticulated gestures of our friend make the planet accelerate? Do they play a big part in human society? No. This is the simply answer. Still they are spinning the world: they are spinning the meaningfulness of the world. The meanings you consume are not eternal ideas, nor some sort of quanta: there is not a single meaning in the physical world (and outside lie pure spirits!). So, where our concepts come from? They haven't been there since the beginning, so they moved. Someone moved them. Meanings are spun by human beings, actively playing their form of life. But when you are totally in to your character, do you play your role or do you move meanings? I suppose you already got it. Yes my friend. All the “normal” persons are playing their roles. Some mystics are playing the meanings.

The very posh ones are poets, but all the queers, weirds, addicted, all the life juggler, all the convention acrobats, all the monotony burglars are precisely blowing the meanings. Their unstable, staggering steps, with hands barely grasping a hold, are moving the world. Next time a man falls down, help him: you'll be lifted!

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