Note - I do not expect you to get all that this and other essays have to offer in one go. These passages are a condensation of thoughts from different paths of life. Some you might have already walked and some that you might never encounter but if you are stuck at a path then for you. This isn't written with ink, but blood. And I do not just expect you to read but to learn this by heart. This can help you minimize unnecessary suffering while you traverse through difficult paths of life.
Everything Profound has a distaste for figures; for shapes. They are too vast to have bounds, this is what makes them Abstract. But do not be fooled it isn't a privilege, It is more a conundrum than a solution to be Abstract. Lonesome will I characterize the Abstract. The birth of every interpretation is celebrated with the loudest drums, the most mesmerizing fireworks, and the blissfully sweet drinks. Nothing in comparison to the gloomy end it has been assigned. For it will never have a funeral full of people who are sad and resentful for the same reason and soon after realizing this comes another earthquake of the conclusion that shakes every root of belief there was in the temporary bounds given to it by its loved ones. The celebrations were not motivated by a single reason either, rather they were celebrations of small victories of individuals over the reality itself, as these interpretations allowed them to justify their perverse way of living to the devouring gargoyle inside their psyche who cut them before every lie they manifest, who pokes his sharp nails in the rapidly beating heart right before it’s about to commit something immoral. Even though pain and guilt are his choice of weapons to guide the degenerate and lost souls, He is a saint compared to the malevolent actions we take as humans and our ability to create delusions to distract ourselves from the blood that’s pouring out of our cardiac. I pray for the gargoyle as he has seen my darkest thoughts with a resolution I can not fathom. I am not even honest enough to tell myself my truest intentions. I am scared of my capability for evil and destruction to the good forces of the world and so should you be. For there isn’t a better code of conduct. Not the desire of the holy heavens or eternal rest, but terribly terrified of the hell I can manifest.
But is it really my doing, I barely am capable to notice my own shortcomings. How does one like me venture out in the world and give a verdict that convicts the whole world of not knowing but still pretending to be wise? The masses are obsessed with knowing the answers to the madness of the universe, to the chaos of being. For they screech and keep pulling their own hair, maniacally. Until they can put a label and categorize the idea they don’t even understand. They feel under their skin is an army of crawling ants for they can’t sit still until they figure out a hypothesis to the conundrum of Life. They poke a shining silver knife in their guts making holes to be able to peek inside to figure out what goes on inside the most complex creation of the universe. When they see they laugh as loud as their lungs allow. Those poor souls think what they have seen is real and not only that but their interpretation of the system is correct. May it be untrue but it provides them the comfort of knowing which they will take over the terror of not knowing in a matter of a heartbeat.
The Abstract isn't a singleton. It is a harmony of the opposite, a unification of the anima with the tonal.
Some processes in the Abstract are too effortless and beautiful. So, they must be made coarse and ugly before they are found out by the poets and philosophers who call themselves visionaries of the future. Who are thoughtful enough to recognize the value of such precious processes but humane enough to speak of it to the masses in their creations anyways because they are enslaved to their egos and can't leave an opportunity to get an appraisal from a crowd of monkeys barely smart enough to synchronize the motion of both of their hands to make a sound. The destruction of such processes makes the wise weep tears of blood for once lost these finite waterfalls may never have a rush of refreshing ingenuity flowing through them ever again. But I understand the burden they feel, The cup that gets filled to the brim has no alternative but to spill, but staying still in abundance is an art worth mastering. Though I understand the memories they reminisce when they were unfilled with the wisdom they now possess. This is where the ancient idiom holds true " Be aware of the wisdom you didn't earn".
The mask we give the Abstract is made out of our bias and urges. This is precisely done by the Mask-maker to ensure their sanity, which inevitably ensures the purity of the Abstract. These Masks can be taken off but, only the courageous can do so. For on the other side lies the eternal and the boundless Abstract, abundantly available for the courageous one to digest and embody. Thus, A Mask is a necessity, not a choice. Mask will come into existence anytime one tries to comprehend the Abstract. Mask protects such processes from getting corrupted and it provides a path for understanding at a level not previously possible.
--- The End ---
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