Mans biggest fear

What separates man from animal is that man has got an intellect.

It could also be the way that man choose to use his or her intellect against themselves.

How do you create war? You set some criteria for what matters, and then you decide that everyone who thinks differently is on the other side, and so must be killed. It doesn't really matter if it's about sharing the water of a river or having different perspectives on what happens when you die. (When it comes to having different takes on afterlife, killing others in war because of different opinions can be considered a particularly paradoxical activity, since nobody will be around to tell who won.) In this case, though, the men who make the decisions rarely fight in the war, and so their decisions do not inflict any personal damage.

On a more personal level, we have something called anxiety, angst. It comes in many forms, but is always carried out by the individual. It wasn't until having lived with severe angst through many years, that I suddenly realized the problem is not angst itself, but the capability of creating chains of thought long enough to make one feel insufficient. Some people would boil this down to having too much time to think. In that case, getting a hair cut and a job might solve the problem. But I would like to explore this further than that. What is it that drives us towards hurting ourselves with our intellect?

On religion

From Foucault's Pendulum by Umberto Eco:

"And begin by combining his name, YHWH, at the beginning alone, and examine all its combinations and move it and turn it about like a wheel, front and back, like a scroll, and do not let it rest, but when you see its matter strengthened because of the great motion, because of the fear of confusion of your imagination and the rolling about of your thoughts, and when you let it rest, return to it and ask it, until there shall come to your hand a word of wisdom from it, do not abandon it." Abulfia, Hayyê ha-Nefes, MS München 408, fols. 65a-65b

Well, I'm running late to a meeting, as usual, so I'd better comment this later.

On processing

A friend threatened me the other day with sending me an article about procrastination. According to him I have "all the hallmarks of a writer" and I assume he believes procrastination is one of those. I probably have a hundred never written down books in my head. Thought through and ready to be published. But I never ever write them down. Because when I am done with the process, I am no longer interested. It's like learning to knit. I once knitted a massive scarf (It's true, I have photo proof!) and so I know how to knit. I might not have the muscle memory for it, I might not know how to make those twists and turns, but I have discovered the mystery of it. Thus, I am done with it.

Establishing reality

Most people I know are all about creating the perfect life for themselves and the people they have closest. Many of them get annoyed by things and thoughts that come their way, when these things are not part of their own bubble. Which is fine. I honestly feel relieved when my friends start valuing themselves and the life they lead. But the fort we all have around our values and ways of thinking also leaves us feeling lonely sometimes.

It seems I am lingering on the other extreme, where there is a constant urge to see through the fasade, to break through and create an understanding of what is lying beyond the back drop. All my days of "thinking to much" was probably just me trying to get it. And people kept telling me there wasn't anything to get. Wasn't there though? Or is it just a strategy we are taught, to let us live without constant fear of the unknown? I know it is easier to focus on what to have for dinner and when to get kids. It's a kind of reality, one that is clear, one that we are taught to handle. That is what they call growing up.

Is there too little time for us to go beyond what is expected? Are we just lazy? What are we going to do when everything is said and done and we are about to die but have a little moment left? Sometime I feel alone with my brain. Peace out.