Notes: V
the world is so vast, so unknown, that God must be believed to make it compact, or else one risks being carried away beyond the precipice of sanity.
the world is so vast, so unknown, that God must be believed to make it compact, or else one risks being carried away beyond the precipice of sanity.
upon witnessing destruction the believer seeks refuge in God’s mercy, while the lost curse and wail, with sullied tongues, with meaningless assemblage of words, a vital epistemic difference.
the capacity and possibility of circumstances worsening exponentially is often cast aside as an improbability.
entitlement will bring about the end of time, over land, air, food and water; a tiny minority becomes the instruments of the fates and yet, men are not owed any of this, and in the final calculus, God shall restore the oppressed.
the mother’s tear is the greatest tragedy.
for the most intimate relation, of man’s with himself, there is no need for an audience.
once a request for intimacy is accepted in the heavens, God has to, nay, wants to, radically restructure the inner composition of man, bit by bit, thought by thought; the vessel must be made anew.
the mountains remain to be crushed, the sky yet to be folded; from the mountains you descend, through the valleys and glades, on to land that is holy and pure.
casual degeneracy admixed into the mundane aspects of life rusts the pillars of society, step by step walks the devil, bit by bit, chipping away like a woodpecker.
the talismanic tunics must be retrieved, the reckoning is nigh.
there never have been any rules in the egalitarian sense, crude power is always found lurking beneath facades of language and structures, only sterling resolve accepts and then simultaneously resists this fact.
accelerated time aides to impale the iron rods of secularity into the mundane aspects of life; these are the chores of a globalized modernity, from which there is hardly any escape, and through this colonization of time itself, the objectives of human enslavement are met.
precedents may have a place in law, but in the domain of History, being dominated by specters of the past for normative orientation, which, while may have some incontrovertible role, can be deadly. in fact, to rely on them is even sacrilegious when it becomes an insult to the human capacity to create something new.
purely existentialist approaches caricatured the mechanism of meaning making by removing God as a normative field; it was assumed that there was a liberatory aspect in inducing in an act or thought a wholly independent structure of meaning, a costly mistake when it was God himself who had enabled the language that was assumed as sovereign in itself.
man’s hubris may be cured through the simple impairment of his eyelid’s ability to move, and yet this is man, waging war, oppressing the weak, a certainly foolish creature, a thoroughly wretched animal.
God will dominate in one way or another, so pray it be through His beauty, not by His grandeur.
the old direction extinguishes, cherish it.
worship can only be intended, not performed in an agentive sense, and the heavenly adjudication takes that into its account. works and acts are circumstantial, while faith is true vertically, from man to God; “willing is acting,” Ludwig is right, and that the “wish precedes the event, the will accompanies it.” but what if the will fails to deliver the action to its intended end? God is merciful.
the demonic capacity to poison the intellect increases with every generation, the very same base corruptions are expressed in progressively more injurious manifestations; what had previously harmed one, now harms a thousand.
industry must be harnessed and capital moralized, pierce forward into future with radically good intentions; once there is a shift in the material arrangement of societies, there is no return to an imagine Eden, hence the tools must be taken before they are taken. the final story of moral capital remains yet to be written.
a society reliant on the moral opinions of celebrities is already a carcass, to need such steps to create awareness for any of the world’s many tragedies is an easy abdication of individual responsibility; it is like expecting the court jester to emancipate the serfs.
the chains of morality have geographical axes too, many of which have definitively cracked in multiple poles. take this site: the plethora of empty churches, some vacant physically, some intellectually; there is nothing there, and the saints gone into hiding.
upon the decimation of the psyche, ask to be gifted dreams in your sleep, and God may yet reveal answers.
if given the opportunity, the study of mathematics and the arts, in a pure sense, without any immediate compulsion to find utility for them, must be embraced; revel in the abstract even if application later becomes an obligation.
Ludwig uttered truly, ah yes! a value judgement so disliked by the “historian,” that “what cannot be imagined cannot even be talked about,” and so, what can be imagined can not only be talked about, but must be talked about, not in the superfluous sense of Jane has a wonderful cat, although, arguably, that is not superfluous at all if Jane’s cat produces beauty in this miserable world, and perhaps, here we have, through language, arrived at the conclusion that there may very well be an obligation to speak about everything that can be spoken about, the moral obligation of discovering beauty.
the historian can be a worse lier than the newscaster; both speak authoritatively but the latter’s facade is not assisted by the weight of “expertise.” the caster often knows the depth of his fraud, but the historian remains unaware of his own lies.
mythical thinking in the Punjab has turned to stone, completely frozen, still, the songs of the birds are still heard echoing over the fields of mustard.
there is vital difference between anonymity to protect communal interests and pontificating without consequence.
melancholic chronology.
believe in demons in a real sense.
humor in the vulgar sense is amongst the lowest modes of interacting with the world, it is arrested development. there is no contradiction between having proper wittiness and a sober life, there just is no space for a casual and profane response to the facts of life.
taking pride in the flesh is idiotic for the multiple reasons, amongst them is the basic fact of fate, and another is that it is not even clear whether the flesh is even coterminous with man.
do not squash the bug, it is alive in its own world.
if crushing the bug does not induce severe mental disturbance in the mind, then either one has habituated himself to a life of inattention or he has a clear acceptance of where he thinks he stands in the order of this world.
the voices from the forest will fall on your ears like hushed whispers, calling you back, and at the end of time, the trees that remain will always be there, and under their shade you would rest your broken back as perception diminishes.
desiring an object or state is not necessary, and certainly not sufficient, but rather accidental, in the achievement of a particular end.
a fundamental confusion about Muslim time is linear intellectual decay, which eschatologically is an acceptable thesis, but if we overlay linear time with a sketch of nodal time, meaning time in a singular unit, there is no reason for divinely orchestrated flourishing of the intellect to not take effect.
at the end, insularity becomes pleasurable to even the most cosmopolitan of sober minds.
if strong of resolve, voluntarily imprison yourself in a room without any mirrors; the bonds of material attachment will shatter.
on this wretched Earth, we deserve to exist only if refashion ourselves in the image of Caesar, and even then, when there is a great fire, even that mask will not save us.
new age writing demands total clarity, an irritation against any esoteric or mystical elements to speech; a travesty.
denigrating the beggar comes from a soul not fully cognizant of its own needs. is one, anyone, not a beggar in some sense?
the Empire crushes the external and at times, the internal, while the brave resilient resistance just crushes its own.
there is no break from coloniality without land redistribution; it is land that makes all real.
upon the destruction of life before death is the complete unveiling of this fact of life that one is utterly alone, in a full sense. certainly, one may have appendaged company in the form of a family or a friend, but that is not total, and it is this drive towards completion that alerts one to his solitude upon the devastation of his life. hence, God.
certain behaviors and thoughts of others appear as preposterous because one is often unable to achieve perspective; if they could inhabit the circumstances that someone may have underwent to come to that position, judgement would be rendered almost useless, apart from edification.
the acceptance of mortality, in a true sense, is perhaps amongst the highest of realizations.
thought is co-constituted with the facts of life, and so the solutions sought to the problems of life cannot be ascertained intellectually with any great resolution without the actual process of life.
how is that one is to reach the beloved when millions crowd this path?
after overwhelming tragedy the adult does not necessarily always age in the sense of psychological movement of personality; often, there is a rather severe regression to child-like templates of the world and existence, the reason being that when tragedy demolishes the scaffolding of adult perception, one has to subsist on the most primal, here child-like, maps of the world.
every night is the most melancholic night for someone.
the vulgarity of the times gives more and more credence to traditional grief rituals, which, while at other times may be viewed as “excessive,” now provide a much needed sobriety to the crudeness of the times.
prolonged imprisonment breaks the linearity of time, and once freed, the immediacy of the next moment becomes less imposing.
compulsion understood properly would reconfigure improper views on guilt and forgiveness.
the manhole is missing, all speech of decolonization is insanity.
trials are in the margins, in the intersections of competing domains of life, of morality, not in the centers.
God owes nothing, and is not compelled by the logic of His justice; His provision is not a payment but a gift.
understand exile as a loving blow of fate.
the unremarkable becoming remarkable indicates either great tragedy or great beauty.
spontaneity can descend into madness if not tempered. take the example of the film script, where the dialogue often expresses itself in a such an over-crafted way that it feels overly spontaneous, overly-constructed, as if it comes not from lived human experience but rather primarily through the genre of the script, which often erases the social mooring of dialogue itself, and what we are left with is an often whimsical understanding of the writer that narrates the story as he wishes it were, rather than it really is. yet, there is something instructive in this desire to over produce dialogue, a yearning to move past the strictures of social life. perhaps then, infusion of script into real life may still prove to be a path against psychological stagnation. so either spontaneity must be introduced to a diminished life or reduced from an overly manic one.
when one says, rather capriciously, that prison is a state of mind, or rather accurately, a condition derived from sense perception, one can quite easily criticize such a statement for being naive. however, if the definition is actually developed further, it becomes much more difficult to do so. taken to its most polished form, this is true. however, any crude proposition of the matter will leave the aggrieved and the oppressed duly agitated at what they would conceive as a misunderstanding of their true state, a brutal invalidation of their suffering, for the broken must believe that his suffering is both unique and universal, for if it is not the former, he would be rendered invisible, and if it is not the latter, the desperation of unbelonging would crush his spirits.
tangible effects of memory are often overstated and intangible ones often understated. take, for instance, the notion of some phrase like the “stain on history” of x, often strutted around after some tragic or seemingly immoral event. by that what is generally meant is the tradition of memory operating as some omnipresent world-making moral force. the facts of life are such that it is often the case that the grand tradition of “memory” is fractured, deceptive, and sometimes just plainly forgetful. and it is also often the case that what cannot be remembered is often revealed not by traditions of memory, story, and narrative but in the the very composition of the body, of its minutest movements.
