Freedom is non-existence.

wat exactly do u mean by freedom is non existence

Anirudh

describe freedom .

X:

in wat context?

Anirudh

think freedom from pain, life

X:

how bout… death
is that wat ur talkin bout?

Anirudh

see, the world and this universe are based on rules?
without rules nothing can ever be created?

X:

ok..
i agree
and/.

Anirudh

what are rules? limitations. in a game of chess, the king needs to have restrictions for it to be king, otherwise anything could be anything
so limitations are required for any organized structure
for this universe

X:

ok.. so in THAT perspective, freedom is not to b asked 4?

Anirudh

the only way then, for freedom
is to not exist
because freedom and existence don’t go together
they can’t

X:

so kill urself ha ha

Anirudh

exactly

X:

so ur msg is?
to either not ask 4 freedom or to kill urself?:|

Anirudh

to understand that the only way this play of life can exist is by laws. And to believe in life beyond death, isn’t true freedom, it’s just another set of rules and limitations.  True freedom is to not exist .

Painting.

I’ve loved the interpretations I’ve gotten of this one . Thought I’d put it up, just to see how many more I get.

The two realities.

The universe has formed from and on, physical laws and universal constants, a wholly tangible universe. From it, the birth of predictable structure and order , and hence life.  Life led to the birth of this observer, the observer observed , while waiting for his cognitive ability to develop. From the acts of cognition and observation, he gained knowledge.

With knowledge, came the power to discover , to learn, to understand this world and to define it as his reality.

• Knowledge becomes a mere tool, to control the universe.
• This view of reality satisfies only the materialist.
• A subjective view of Reality is impossible.
• Reality exists without an observer.

An observer is required to define reality, for the universe cannot exist without an observer. What he perceives , exists . As Descartes put it, you can only ever be sure of yourself and your doubt.  The universe, a reflection of his own cognition. The structure perceived in the universe, is a reflection of the observer’s organized mind/consciousness.

• This view invariably leads to solipsism. Not that I complain.
• The universe doesn’t exist without the observer ,  and the observer cannot exist without the universe , a tangled hierarchy then.
• Knowledge is a reflection of the observer’s own mind.
• The world is illusionary, the only reality is self awareness.
• Objective reality is impossible.
• Human consciousness transcends science and reason, and hence, to explain it, the invocation of a universal consciousness is required, which is then mirrored in the observer, for the self becomes a reality.

Existence, society and it’s contribution to the notion of reality.

Dictionary: re·al·i·ty

1.The quality or state of being actual or true.
2.The totality of all things possessing actuality, existence, or essence.
3.That which exists objectively and in fact: Your observations do not seem to be about reality.

I’ve had a problem with all three attempts at defining it. When is something true? Is it when you can feel, touch, observe, measure, contemplate and deduce? Is this material life a reality , with the law of conversation of energy an eternal commandment? If it is, the above three definitions automatically makes sense.

And yet, the mind desires a higher order, and a higher meaning. Perhaps, an eternal nothingness, or a life beyond this. How can this life be a reality, when it’s hazy, and each moment gains colour as it goes through your mortal grasp , from the shrouded future into the bleakness of the past?  The thinking man defines mortality, as an interruption of the eternal.

What is real, is absolute. If the universe is dynamic, and life temporary, then by pre-definition, life cannot be real. If you believe this world to be unreal, you still cannot stop eating and breathing, for you need to live, and we are bound to this world.
If you believe that being bound to this world by needs, is an extensive definition of reality, its far from a satisfying.  Nutrition and sustenance , are needs, which we as animals, fulfill. A need, and therefore its satisfaction, does not warrant a reality. A need is different from a fact. The society, money, relationships, oxygen, are needs, which an animal must become slave to, but it is by no means a reality.

If what is eternal, is real, then death in itself (and what lies beyond) is unreal for it is interrupted by life. We have a paradox, for then, what is reality?

Perhaps an objective approach to reality is impossible. For, if it is objective, it is mechanical and material , and the intellect desires to transcend that. All my attempts have lead me to Solipsism.

Happiness, and it’s pursuit.

There is this argument that often stumps me , in so much that I don’t seem to be able to come up with a suitable reply.  All conversations regarding the nature and meaning of life, and it’s purposefulness , seem to end with the question of happiness.

” I believe life has meaning and purpose, and I help and love, to make others happy. All cynicism can do is to make people desperate and cold. ”

If life was to be judged, beginning with happiness, rather than the other way around – wherein, happiness is just one of the emotions we readily identify with – cynics lose credibility. If the sole purpose of life is to make others happy and to seek for joy, then a meaningless world , finds purpose in that.

It is rightly so, that cynicism has no place in the betterment of life, and whether life be devoid of purpose or otherwise, the search for happiness provides it with pseudo-meaning , enriching life. Perhaps cynics loose the desire for happiness , for their melancholy is now their joy, but the shallowest of pursuits finds a place of great depth in the living.

This pursuit of happiness, manifests, into animals, the contentment from intercourse, food, territory . But, among us, humans, it has driven our lives further, making it, in some ways higher and separate from this arbitrary world.

The Swine Flu saga.

Well, the flu is closer than any of us ever desired. My building to be exact. One four year old, dead , multiple organ failure. Five kids tested positive. Oh it’s a field day watching people panic. I don’t quite have much to say. Just wanted to make this entry.

Oh, and I’m tired of people finding solace in believing that it’s God’s work . Sure, Idolize him, even when the evidence suggests otherwise. In fact, credit him for his brilliant achievement in inter species communicable disease.

Human behaviour, ethics and morality.

What is ethical, is often right. The definition of something that is ‘right’ is that it be most apt for the situation. So what is morally right, is what is most ‘apt’. The problem with this arrangement, is that it breaks down with the question “what is apt and from who’s perspective?”. Since perspectives differ, and one can stand to lose, or win from an outcome – what is the ‘truly’ moral thing to do?

As the Zeitgiest  changes and evolves, so does what is moral and right. There are a greater number of people now, who see that discriminating homosexuality is outrageous, than say two decades ago. Eventually it will be “morally right” to treat them as normal individuals, while currently opposing their freedom happens to be “morally right” .
Ethics and morality then , seem to be absolutely relative. Is there a possible reference that people could use (other than the book), to discover absolute and timeless morality?

It makes rational sense, to link morality induced altruism to selfishness. Self preservation and self benifit. There is nothing that is absolutely right or wrong- just measures of apt-ness.

Astounding evidence that morality is relative, is the change in paradigm that accompanies development. Humans are designed to survive. ( like any other organism). We will live with our past, with the greatest errors, and justify them. Any preconceived notion about the ethical nature of an action , is bound to change after the action has been performed. We stand apart and preach righteousness, feel superior, and when we fall, we manage to justify it morally.

Ethic, has the power to make cynics or idealists of people.

People will be kind and considerate, completely giving and altruistic when it doesn’t cost them to be so.  On the phone, we extend support, compassion and care, often failing when it comes to the actual act. It costs lesser to be nice on the phone (and hope that the person doesn’t need your support after all), than to actually go do something nice.

Humans are, on the face of it, animals, and are subjects of predictable, pre-constructed behaviour. If realized that all of nature has a primitive driving force of self preservation behind it, human complexity, can be deconstructed to simple acts of selfishness.

More incomplete stuff.

Untitled

I died this morning.

Not a spectacular start for a story you say? Well it wasn’t meant to be spectacular, no flashy lights, gates glimmering in radiant divinity, no tunnel of divine love.  It was meant to be simple, a ” then he was no more”. Or so I expected. The thing is, I’m still around for some strange reason, my body intangible yet confined in this form, dead to humanity, but alive to the world. Quite a shock, as you’d expect. There I was, on the floor, stone cold. Yet here, warm and breathing.

I saw my mother walk into me lying on the floor, her eyes widen. I heard the scream… the incessant wailing that followed.  I’ve never seen my dad cry before. Sigh. I thought death would be simple, I thought I wouldn’t be around to see them discover that rope around my neck. When I died, I thought they’d die with me.
It doesn’t matter, I’m still here, evening on the 17th of October. I didn’t read this morning’s paper.

It was about Mid afternoon, when I could no longer watch them gather around my house , that I left to wander the streets. The blazing sun, had left the streets rather empty, people unwilling to brave the heat.  I could hear my own footsteps in the stillness that the dead breeze provided. I wondered why I was around, or if this was all death was about. There was life beyond death after all, where was the eternal peace of the non-living? Everything looked the same, the birds on the trees, the oblivious cawing of a crow a yard away, the thirst.

My science had failed me, where was this God who would judge me? I had searched for him once before, when I was alive, and now, I searched for him again. Where did I begin? I think it was the Temple at the corner of the street. That little shrine, the one I passed every morning, sill looked the same. The gates were locked, but through the grill , I could see the idol. I spoke to it, explained myself, justified my errors, cried, begged.
The stoic stone angered me. I began to yell at it, curse , lashed out at those wooden doors.

Anger can only last so long. I felt claustrophobic and frustrated, I desired freedom. Death had failed to grant me that.
I sat down on the the road facing the temple, I didn’t care if I was run over, I was dead wasn’t I ? I was never scared of her, death I mean. She was beautiful, perfect and fair. It was life that scared me.

Maybe, this God , required belief of me, my freedom a price in return. Why would I pay that price? Belief.

I remember the heat on my exposed neck, my head bent down , cradled in between my legs. I couldn’t believe in him. I wouldn’t believe in a God who needs of people – sacrifice and belief.  One who saved only those, who believed in him and condemned the rest to an eternity, in hell.

This was it, an eternal life of no comfort, my hell. Even if belief would save me , grant me peace, I won’t believe in him.  Every dawn, I will die again, with no home , and no rest, I shall wander forever.

The idol facing me has now been dressed, the incense lit, flowers at the stone’s feet. The afternoon has mellowed to a languid evening. As it grows dark, the last of the day’s worship done, the priest closes those wooden doors. The idol rests for the night.

Unfinished.