Tag Archives: freedom

Theoretical Philosophy, a Disclaimer…


Standing alone at the midnight crossroads of thought may be frightening.

No one knows who’s coming, bargaining belonging for one’s liberty of mind.

Alone however, doesn’t mean lonely, until there’s a clarity of purpose, bitter rooted in an effort to achieve through learning, forward looking onto a more palatable reward of understanding.

Theoretical philosophy irreverently surpasses other means of cognitive inquiry, through its sworn allegiance unto nothing but its fountainhead. Iconoclastic, crude, unfaithful, are only glimpses into its free mind.

Therefore, if the reader henceforth seeks referential justifications for my own thoughts, let them engage themselves alone into such endeavours, as I reserve myself the right to provide or not references, being under neither Harvardian nor any other arbitrarily imposed academic structural policing rules.

Because I believe that in essence, freedom at an age of consent is never taken away, but ultimately given; and I refuse to yield…

“It is right that we ask [people] to accept each of the things which are said in the same way: for it is the mark of an educated person to search for the same kind of clarity in each topic to the extent that the nature of the matter accepts it.”
Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, 1 1094a24-1095a

To my autistic diary…


When its motion stopped,
I realised that my circle of life
became an insignificant spot,
desperate, frightened, alone,
like a tired fire juggler
abandoned by an audience
too dull to notice
the beauty of the single detail
constructing their illusion…

“How odd” he said,
“In vitro, every now and then
becomes a schism
embedded deep between
what’s left, and yet to be…”

Streets become discontinued cobbles,
trees become ungerminated seeds,
all birds remain abandoned egg shells,
and every life’s a single heart’s
unfinished tapestry of beats…

2nd of April 4th, 1984…


From the religious thinkers who associated this intelligently complex Universe with a “believed in” entity capable of it, through Francis Crick to Ridley Scott, mankind seem to have been left with with a sense of some desperate need to reverse engineer this “miracle called life”, back to something more plausible than an accident; something their rational minds wouldn’t need to accept following only an intellectual lobotomy.
This, mankind’s continuous search for reasons, for logic where life-facts were offered for acceptance, forces the mind and the heart to doubt anything “a priori”, mainly when the authority behind the offer is the same with the one demanding unquestionable obedience, sincere submission.
If we are capable of anything worth being mentioned, then I would chose mankind’s innate incapacity for uncoerced stupidity; we just can’t freely love what’s being forced upon us.
Oh yes, we will love O’Brian and his likes, but only following a well-planned facial rendes-vous with a cage-load of hungry rats; but that ain’t love, babe…
Some time after leaving Christianity’s well designed “golden cage”, I stumbled in my tired search for raisons d’être, upon Phillip Pullman’s “His Dark Materials” famous trilogy. Liberated, but still having shackles protruding through my thoughts, I have found peace; the peace only a rather weird freedom to hate, any being, beings, God or gods, anyone claiming responsibility and/or authority for, and over this utter mess called “existence”.
Even though, for a writer’s reasons Pullmann singled out the Vatican as the Magisterium responsible for being the accomplice of a long gone authority, senile and confined by other, “ascending to authority” authorities, to a state of mental oblivion, I discovered the sublime peace which arrives only upon the sweet wings of hate, as I said, of anyone and anything having to do with injustice. Because as I also mentioned, we are innately incapable of loving injustice, and I dare say, even in a degenerate state of some doing it, injustice has always a source, an arche-place of ignition, a cause of which those acting it, are only pathetic effects…
Unfortunately and as usual, we seem to have been conditioned to “cause blindness”, which prevents us from ever seeing the true cause at the origin of the tentacle ramified effects. Because THERE IS, THERE MUST BE an arche-authority which by perpetrating itself through uncountable aeons, has fooled us into accepting any other authority instead of the adult, responsible, independent and autonomous authority of SELF…
And anyone or anything claiming authority beyond the rightful boundaries of SELF, is by its very own nature an usurper, worthy of oblivion.
Because “power’s” other name is “authority”…

-to be continued…-

Democracy’s twerking corridors of power (1)…

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“The term originates from the Greek δημοκρατία (dēmokratía) “rule of the people”, which was coined from (dêmos) “people” and (kratos) “power” or “rule” in the 5th century BCE to denote the political systems then existing in Greek city-states, notably Athens; the term is an antonym to ριστοκρατία (aristocratie) “rule of an elite”. While theoretically these definitions are in opposition, in practice the distinction has been blurred historically.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Democracy

It may have never bothered anyone, the awkward dissonance between what democracy is supposed to be, and the rivers of blood engulfing mountains of corpses it left behind throughout history.
This supposedly “user friendly” system’s perils reside within its own definition, bound to “power” and “rule” as all other “ruling-class friendly” socio-political systems.
Democray’s advocates have all along defended their pet, as the one and only possible source of “liberté, égalité, fraternité” available to mortals, sadly forgetting that “power & rule” have never been friends to liberty and equality…
All along known history, most ruthless tyranies have been branded as “democratic” by their own criminal leaders, demanding from skinned to bones subjects, adoration due to gods alone…
But I shall not go on writing about these; rather less than deep down, you know well I’m right.
As a genetically irreparable existentialist, I take individuality to be the irreducible right of all beings, except cabbages and kin, together with all other -biological or not- inanimate mechanisms.
The way soul and spirit indwelt entities perceive the reality surrounding them, and the response they may chose to display and act upon subsequently, cannot be conferred; it follows their unrequested arrival into stages of existence, carrying thus a universal law of adjustment both of themselves, but also of those whose lebensraum has been -usually- reduced as a consequence.
These developing entities, each according to their own basic necessities, need no ruler.
Help upon need and request, yes, assistance upon need and request, yes, partnerships of all sorts upon need and desires, yes, cooperation to mutual benefits, yes, associations to mutual benefits, yes, parasitic rulers, no…
Oh, you may think not all rulers are parasitic… Well, you may probably be just one of them, or the gift of understanding reality seem to have been wasted in your case…
Rule beyond the natural boundaries of self, always becomes dictatorship, which is basically imposing one’s “democracy” upon another, either by force of fist, or by force of law.
Let me give you a simple example: parking fees; these are one of civilisation’s most pathetic institutions, comparable only to the ones forcing the soon-to-be-executed to digging their own graves. Ask the demos if they would want this privileges to be kratos upon them, and they will say: nay!
Yet for reasons useful only to those more equal than the equal ones, we pay parking fees under the all beating fist of the(ir) law…
And I am not going to enter the hidden realm of manufacturing cars capable of at least 160 mph, in countries where democracy means 30 mph on most roads…
What I’ll write about though, is this democracy’s transition from fist to rod, from rod to whip, from whip to weapon, from weapon to terror, from terror to horror, from horror to no-tomorrow…

(To be continued…)



Poor eyes,
framing a storm of melting senses,
painstakingly written
all over a canvas of dreams…

Poor brain,
hunting a hoard of images
too pure to remain
sounds of a melting echo…

Poor heart,
unbeaten by what order
would have murdered for…

Perfect it seemed,
and bound to freedom…

with, and without the Salvador…

The other side of blindness…


If side,
there’s always there, another…
With no communication
but the bridging self
of the betweenness,
like the torn flag
of broken, subdued ideals…

It’s the betweenness oftentimes
the side of otherness,
spread, squeezed, immense, belittled,
forgotten victim “rightfully left” paying dues
to the left,
to the right,
to whosoever’s shameless
“I’ve been there before you…”

Poor child,
hanging there,
betweenness for
baptised and pagan,
circum- and uncircum-,
soldness* and freedom,
blind between twilight and darkness…

There is no light;
just the uncertainty behind the other side
of blindness…

* – a state of being sold…

Philip Pullman, “His Dark Materials”, “The Golden Compass” – The Liberty of Thinking 1


1. Introduction

his Dark Materials”, would have been my original title’s twist on Pullman’s own naming for this centuries changing, monumental trilogy.
It’s always rather complicated to explain emotionally driven decisions in a world where “law” has become a pathetic replacement of politically correct mathematics, yet the twist is something imposed by our deliberate reduction to a child’s limitations; but by who?
Milton’s famous line bears the mark of a both personal and -for that time- social respect for a divinity inherited far and remote from any “sacred” text, agnostically unknown therefore, feared and revered not for anything “he” has provenly ever done, but for something “he” could supposedly do if hurt in his quest for his own “glory”, built all over nearly any earthly religion upon the blood, sweat, agony and death of infants, children and adults, high on monstrous pedestals of an ever unmerited, torturous attitude, called “god’s love”; and as for such, I decided to refrain my majuscules respect within the use of “his…”.
Hoping by now to have been forgiven by my reader for the rather lengthy preamble, I shall disclose the dichotomy forcing me to write what I hope to progress into a longer series eventually leading to a book, about what I -again- hope to become a -as much as possible- comprehensive attempt to make Pullman’s trilogy clearly understandable even to those who by the nature of their own allegiance to systems of thought uprooted by, would hopefully be drawn to reading it (or about it, as it often happens first…), and thus be given the chance to exercise their true, liberty of thinking…
This dichotomy of mine stems from my own, former theological training combined with two decades of (hyper)active Christian faith, shattered to painfully sharp slabs of hurting memories; all these and my newly discovered liberty of thought…
“The Golden Compass” (originally published in the UK as “Northern Lights”), is not a compass at all, to begin with…
Lyra’s “instrument” is truly less than a north-pointing compass, yet so much more; it is as it’s Greek borrowed name reveals, a measurer of truth.
Yes, I know, have mercy on me by forcing me not to derail into the age-old dilemma of what exactly is “truth”, because I don’t want to end-up establishing the hot-bed of some new religion of “love”, providing incentives of fertility for the always ready seekers of holy reasons to behead, chop, cut ‘n further punish “heretics”…
The alethiometer is a worlds transcending pointer into the true content of anything asked about, regardless of who the inquirer, and who or what the object of the inquiry, is.
Made by “people”, incapable of choosing between inquirers, allowing access to otherwise hidden truths to either the skilled by “nature” or to those by “trade”, this strange tool isn’t at all the central theme of the trilogy’s first book, as suggested for some by its title.
The alethiometer is nevertheless a first clue into what the book is all about, namely the standard for truth. Pullman’n genius resides in a rare capacity of transforming stereotypes into the measurable reason for acting them, as brilliantly shown later in the trilogy by Lyra’s astonishing reassurance at finding out through her velvet wrapped “toy”, that Will is a “murderer”, judging as all should do, with a child’s remnants of innocence, that this truth combined with her own heart’s analysis of Will’s “that something” about him, means she should trust him in spite of all circumstantial facts and appearances.
For those of you who hopefully haven’t have had the chance of seeing the movie before reading the book(s), please refrain from doing so -in spite of its awesome cast, play & all-, because unknown to many, the producers, probably driven by some unusual religious tolerance, decided to emasculate the movie of the novel’s clear and healthy anti-Christianity message, reducing thus the whole, to a eunuch’s attempt to join a male choir’s baritone stand, before he’d open his mouth… The trilogy’s clear message is exactly this: that men are nothing less than victims of an ongoing, cosmic conflagration, where the parts fiercely compete over exclusive ownership rights of a species wrongly thought of as slaves, having no other inter-dimensional rights and duties besides the glorification of the one(s) to be found at the end of the boot(s), eternally smashing the broken teeth from behind their bleeding, boot(s) kissing lips; and where Christianity’s magisterio-inquisitorial boards are supposed to be the agencies translating all these as “god’s love”, ultimately leading to a redemption of which everyone knows everything, yet actually nothing…
Having -quite lengthily- said all these, let me remind my honourable readers, that even though my writing might resemble a rather academic book revue, it’s never been my true intention to write any such, regardless of how much -given it’s nature- should it look like one.
What you are about to read, is actually a manifesto calling for a new, well deserved liberty of thinking, based upon the very first literature wrapped philosophic attempt to provide humans from all existence’s dimensions with the field guide to regain a dignity so deeply lost at the bottom of their lives’ depths, that nothing else less than the utmost desperate attempt to destroy the “authority” usurping their throne within, would be just the pathetic carrying out of a death sentence involuntarily signed with the blood spilled from the severed ends of their own, umbilical cords…

(to be continued…)