/lit/ - Literature

the two birds of the Upanishads have evolved. now the restless one has attained to some pretense of knowledge, now it wants to understand its sibling that has always watched its movements with a maddening serenity.

as soon as reason glances into the still waters of mind, it upsets them, like narcissus it is beguiled by its own image for being there, enamored with itself for having finally stilled the waters long enough to catch a glimpse of its face, and not the false visage of a god, those phantoms of the psyche.


what has always haunted western thought is the intimation of its own groundlessness. but to investigate this groundlessness is to invite recursion into hallowed ground: this is spirodynamic of capital. with no arch-representation by which the order of images is consolidated - no God to knit together the world into a coherent whole - now this spiraling is self-energizing, self-accelerating.

reason can give up the ur-being but it cannot give up this reifying faculty itself. the need to make images and solid cores out of ephemera. western thought has always suffered from a feeling of vertigo, their disdain for oriental emptiness half-stems from jealousy, jealousy of these little men who don't need a ground under their feet.