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Weakness (pg. 3)
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| MrJiveBoJingles |
| quote: | Originally posted by jennypie
But I don't care to elaborate on that right now. It's all so useless anyways. I'm ing sick of talking about stuff. I'm 27 years old, it's time to move into my complacent phase. |
:haha:
That's one way to look at it, I suppose. |
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| Halcyon+On+On |
| quote: | Originally posted by jennypie
So we agree then? |
Probably. :stongue:
It seems to me that man considers himself above all creatures due to his cognitive ability. What you are proposing is a state of "being" over a state of "thinking". This seems to deny the very human sentiment that thinking is the very pinnacle of our being. :wtf:
To merely "be" would be a reversion to our animal natures. We would be only feeling creatures, we would be simple once more. I am not saying that there is absolute good or bad in this concept, merely pointing something out (which may or may not be a necessary proposition :p ). |
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| Silky Johnson |
's sake. Are we talking about the collective subconscious now??
Too many words on the page, man. I can't keep up.
*stomps out of thread* |
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| Halcyon+On+On |
| Ladies and Gentlemen, Jennypie has left the building. |
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| MrJiveBoJingles |
| quote: | Observe the herd which is grazing beside you. It does not know what yesterday or today is. It springs around, eats, rests, digests, jumps up again, and so from morning to night and from day to day, with its likes and dislikes closely tied to the peg of the moment, and thus is neither melancholy nor weary. To witness this is hard for man, because he boasts to himself that his human race is better than the beast and yet looks with jealousy at its happiness. For he wishes only to live like the beast, neither weary nor in pain, and he wants it in vain, because he does not will it as the animal does. One day the man demands of the beast: “Why do you not talk to me about your happiness and only gaze at me?” The beast wants to answer, too, and say: “That comes about because I always immediately forget what I wanted to say.” But by then the beast has already forgotten this reply and remains silent, so that the man wonders on once more.
But he also wonders about himself, that he is not able to learn to forget and that he always hangs onto past things. No matter how far or how fast he runs, this chain runs with him. It is something amazing: the moment, in one sudden motion there, in one sudden motion gone, before nothing, afterwards nothing, nevertheless comes back again as a ghost and disturbs the tranquillity of each later moment. A leaf is continuously released from the roll of time, falls out, flutters away—and suddenly flutters back again into the man's lap. For the man says, “I remember,” and envies the beast, which immediately forgets and sees each moment really perish, sink back in cloud and night, and vanish forever.
In this way the beast lives unhistorically. For it gets up in the present like a number without any odd fraction left over; it does not know how to play a part, hides nothing, and appears in each moment exactly and entirely what it is. Thus, a beast can be nothing other than honest. By contrast, the human being resists the large and ever-increasing burden of the past, which pushes him down or bows him over. It makes his way difficult, like an invisible and dark burden, which he can for appearances' sake even deny, and which he is only too happy to deny in his interactions with his peers, in order to awaken their envy. And so it moves him, as if he remembered a lost paradise, to see the grazing herd or, something more closely familiar, the child, which does not yet have a past to deny and plays in blissful blindness between the fences of the past and the future. Nonetheless, this game must be upset for the child. He will be summoned all too soon out of his forgetfulness. For he learns to understand the expression “It was,” that password with which struggle, suffering, and weariness come over human beings, so as to remind him what his existence basically is—a never completed past tense. If death finally brings the longed for forgetting, it nevertheless thereby destroys present existence and thus impresses its seal on the knowledge that existence is only an uninterrupted living in the past, something which exists for the purpose of self-denial, self-destruction, and self-contradiction.
- Nietzsche |
http://www.mala.bc.ca/~Johnstoi/Nietzsche/history.htm |
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| Silky Johnson |
| God, I would hate to hang out with Nietzsche. |
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| MrJiveBoJingles |
| He is a rather gloomy fellow. |
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| Silky Johnson |
He's not far off from this dumb :
*hatehatehate* |
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| MrJiveBoJingles |
| quote: | Originally posted by jennypie
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:stongue: |
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| Silky Johnson |
| Seriously though, "Thanks for noticin'"? off with your goddamned pity mongering. Miserable piece of . |
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| Halcyon+On+On |
| quote: | Originally posted by MrJiveBoJingles
Strength is of value when competing for limited resources. |
But value, as an asset of sorts, is quite subject to change, no?
We, as animals, are quite subject to the laws of nature, as they would be. That is to say, on this planet full of all sorts of rare arrangements such as oxygen, water, etc. we must consume to perpetuate the integrity of our considerations, if they are, indeed, individual at all. Otherwise we are not much more than mealworms possessing a sort of collective memory trnsmitted through the process that nature has set... assuming we slant more towards individual mammals than a hive-mind organism.
But is it not easy to see both temperaments within humans at times? At baseball games, shopping malls - we participate in the collective consumerism of ideas or the bartering of resources that are only as valuable as our nature dictates them to be. So even in this sense, we are animals in that we still demand a sort of sustenance quite independent of any individual aims or elevated ideals. And this controls us, utterly. After all, what good is even the prophetic musings of the greatest philosopher the world of man could ever know if he did not have milk as a baby? Or water as a man? Or consume something of the universe somewhere along the line? |
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| Halcyon+On+On |
| quote: | Originally posted by jennypie
God, I would hate to hang out with Nietzsche. |
It's why I very much prefer de Sade. He was quite twisted, but he actually lived his sort of off-brand nihilism by utterly torturing prostitutes to death. On top of it all, he predated Nietzsche by some 100 years or so. |
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