scraps words

The force which endures is that which is capable of endless mutation, without loss of momentum. A methodology doesn't have to make logical sense in order to radically alter the playing field. If you want to improve, learn to enjoy the feeling of being uncomfortable. Perhaps free will is nothing more than the ability to recognize & question the clockwork flow of primary impulses. Moral imperatives against questioning or seeking beyond the scope of a particular model of reality are often nothing more than self-preservation mechanisms generated by that model of reality. Every "why?" is a step beyond the limits of one's current system of being, into the unformed mass of raw experience. Every "how:" is an active attempt to incorporate more of that which is external into the existing model. Things grow in complexity via their failed attempts to simplify. In desiring one locates the centre of being in an external object. The self as "desire for..." is compelled endlessly towards this imaginary point on the horizon. Whereas in the act of self-discipline, being is centred in the innermost self, the self as some ultimate judge to whom all external experience must appeal & in turn be judged. To The Great Fear of a difficult task, Desire spoke thus- "I understand your concern, but I suspect that this endless anticipation is ultimately a far more uncomfortable state of affairs than just facing whatever it is you are so afraid of". To which, in turn, Fear responded, "of course, dear friend! I too want that satisfaction you so desperately seek. I merely propose the idea that we hesitate briefly, until more information is available, until this fear has rectified itself. Wouldn't that make far more sense, to just wait it out? Just a little longer. Another day. Another year. Another life". The conscious desire to better understand some degenerative impulse you've experienced might very well just be that same impulse attempting to get its foot in the door. Fear no evil. Rather, fear the endless parade of stupefying diversions which keep you in a state of formless mediocrity, incapable of developing to any noteworthy extent along any particular trajectory. Art-making is the process by which crude materiality crystalizes itself into a transmitter of a particular extra-dimensional force, which in previous epochs was called "God". One leans too heavily on the idea that desiring intensely will yield the object of desire. Would Desire, as a living force, really encourage behaviour that could lead to its demise? Frustrations of self-manifestation: a particular action seems particularly affective, but you can't foresee if it will potentially take you down neurotic back roads, far from your destination. Likewise, an action proves detrimental in the present scenario, so you add it to the list of things to engage no further with, not knowing that that very same behaviour could prove wildly successful in another context. I am frequently visited by the fantasy image of the dedicated practioner of a single art, whose life in its entirety becomes an expression of that art. But there are too many things that catch my eye, and too little evidence that I will experience multiple lifetimes in which to dedicate myself fully, one by one, to all of the various arts. Thus I juggle as much as I can, hoping that I will live long enough to develop each to the point of satisfaction, or that I will in time discover that juggling was all along my art of choice.

aberration absconded akimbo alabaster ambidextrous amplification angular apricot automotive belated bicentennial brazen cavern chupacabra composited concave conflate coniferous deciduous declimatize dodecahedron elucidate equidistant fallacious fuckface grotto incandescent indigenous insecticide mastadon masturbatory monolithic murmuration myopic network non-Euclidean oceangoing overabundant quadrilateral quagmire quandry quantify query sasquatch subterranean symbolism terrarium trapezoid triangular triceratops underground undulation volcano vulcanized zombification

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