There is no intrinsic criteria for evaluating the quality of life. The more intellectual a value is, I think, the less serviceable it is… the more disappointing it is as an answer to what makes life not only worth living, but exploring, testing, witnessing.
The heart–a metaphor for the whole sensory apparatus of the body–is the only proper means of knowing.
What we tell ourselves drowns out what is being told to us.
The mind is increasingly polymorphic—perversely polymorphic: capable of juggling modes, but incapable of settling. The dominant metaphor for the mind is a calculation and communication machine (unlike say, a mirror, or soul, or forest, or ecosystem).
The contemporary mind is a disorganized wave function–collapsing before it collapses, reforming before it forms.
Fragments of knowledge are useful in exposing matrices of power. Matrices of power are useful organizing fragments of knowledge into useful fictions. Fragments battle holons… systems.
Hyperreal democracy has managed to substitute speaking for representing. Politicians–deterritorialized, ideological salesmen–speak, but do not (and in a sense cannot) represent their local interests.
Progressive politics is a verbal apologia for the state’s seizure of material resources.
What we find within is the ruined ecosystem of the imagination–the poisoned environment. So much discourse is a rationalization (and repression) of this subjective awareness. We never give the annihilated imagination a proper hearing.
We should reach out for the real in its reality where things can still be things.
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