Sharing ideas with a community is a beautiful thing, especially when you pay close attention to precisely what takes place when the sharing occurs. I have a social constellation embedded in my mind that is only loosely correlated with any real constellation in the world. Once sharing and recognition begin to unfold, desire gets raised. A single word, glance, depending on who it’s from, can suddenly re-animate an entire body of work that was beginning to seem stale.
I have yearned to develop an original philosophical system ever since I was a teenager. My primary motivation was not interest in philosophical questions or the work of existing philosophers. Rather, it was emotional: pain and confusion in alternation with a sense of cosmic wonder. If I’m being honest I suppose there was also a strong desire to be someone who knows , to pass judgment on the world - some kind of identification with the greatness of Nietzsche, fueled by a sense that I was a monstrosity or a freak, which goes back to my family history and upbringing.
As my System continues to incubate, there’s always a barrier preventing me from producing a concise exposition: I lose confidence in the integrity of my starting point. The question of where to begin or of how to philosophize in an immanent way is, of course, a major topic in modern philosophy, addressed in different ways by different thinkers in different traditions.
One idea is that thought is driven by the unthinkable. It requires contact with an outside that eternally resists symbolization but responds to symbolizing efforts by coughing up fundamental ideas that can be built upon.
If I accept this premiss then I am essentially allowed to construct whatever system I want - or rather, on the contrary, I have no choice but to solve the unique problem that I am, the wound that came before me and afflicts me. To some degree I think this is true: I can sense that I wouldn’t be motivated to philosophize in the first place if I didn’t have such an unusual experience of class, sexuality, religion and gender, that I have something true to offer the world because of a particular experience of chaos.
But there has to be an additional requirement involving breadth and depth of scope, and some kind of criterion for rigor. This criterion is very difficult for me to establish, because a criterion depends on a community and I know of no community that would take my basic philosophical axioms seriously (I’m thinking of the thirst to unify dogmatic theology with psychoanalysis, Marxism and pragmatism in particular). The fact that I have never had a mentor is what requires me to make contact with God, an imaginary mentor who blesses and authorizes my work.
The problem with not expressing one’s thought regularly is that they begin to swirl around in one’s head half-formed, but become so familiar that they no longer seem worth expressing. That leads to a sort of noetic clogging. To start thinking and expressing again requires that the abortive or stale thoughts be flushed, but for that to happen, they have to be expressed.
Most of the RSS feeds on this sites are meant to be a venue for me to communicate flashes of insight on topics contained within the architectonic of Transcendental Qabala. I often find myself wanting to comment on the process as a whole, however - how I'm feeling, the gist of what I'm trying to communicate - and I hesitate to do this because I don't really have a place for it. Sometime I make comments like that in the "ENDEAVOR" feed, but that one is really supposed to be articulating a theory, not giving a personal account.
An issue I'm having right now is one that has plagued me for a long time but is particularly intense right now: as soon as an idea I have becomes fairly clear to me (or an idea in a book I'm reading), I'm not motivated to express it any longer. It's only the half-formed and inconsistent that can hold my attention. I do an enormous amount of tortured-and-ecstatic work making my way towards consistency, but then just as the fully articulated structure comes into focus... I passionately shift my attention to some other badly-posed question or cloudy, dubious formulation.
On the one hand, sure, the unclear is inherently more interesting, because it has a mysterious not-yet quality to it. But I am beginning to detect that there is a certain weakness, passivity, even fearfulness in the attraction to the unclear. Never rendering something in an obvious and digestible form is akin to never making a firm decision - i.e. it is akin to what I designate "the hyperborean".