longer.blue

The New Right is a coalition of groups that have different labels for nihilism. Nihilism is first an adolescent interpretation of a valid observation, which is that life has no invariant meaning, and second, a regressive adoption of meaninglessness as the new meaning of life. It’s a scary, potentially paralyzing turning point, one that so called primitive cultures used to ritualize and confront. For many this is the first crack in the armor of “me.” Most that get that far spend the rest of their days trying to either dominate or escape this moment. The feeling of the presence of myself, is universally felt to be the fundamental basis of reality. The problem with this is that it is a functional figment of our imagination, or of the brain’s imagination. An imaginary sensation is obviously not connected to anything non-imaginary. This it tends to generate consistently the idea that it is isolated. This feeling of isolation is felt by almost every single human being on the planet. It sucks. How it is dealt with accords with the individual personality type. Through this lens of imaginary isolation, the acutely scared (or “masculine”) imagine a primitive history where men were permitted or required to dominate in order to feel fulfilled. It’s an attempt to generate a new strong imaginary isolated sense of presence. Another word for something that exists only in the imagination is fantasy. A fantasy of lack can’t become a fantasy of fulfillment. Not that that an individual can’t fantasize about fulfillment, or that making a fantastic narrative come true brings a fleeting sense of satisfaction. The sense of presence is itself a fantasy. In modern adolescents and adults it is calcified. Any attempt to peer beyond it feels like poking a hornets nest. Just beyond there be dragons. The elephant in the room. Nothing forever. The real bogeyman. Once nothing forever, whether explicit or implicit, is a working part of the functional but imaginary sense of presence, it can’t really be ignored, nor can it be understood. All attempts to satisfy or bury it fail. This is the origin of every haunt, no matter how it manifests. But this is where it starts to get interesting. Some lucky people happen to get completely cornered by the fear. They can’t look away. They don’t get caught in the “life has no meaning, therefor fuck it” trap. Most of the types are near death. Once exhausted by the fear, they let go of the death grip on the sense of presence. They let go of unreality. They take a peek at nothing forever. And they laugh a hysterical laugh, because they see that not only the sense of presence, but the sense of THE WORLD and others, is not real. With the sense of presence out of the picture, there is no other referent for “me.” There is therefor not in any real sense a “me” that is experiencing problems. Problems persist, but the suffering local victim is seen to be pretend, exactly as real as Jack Sparrow. What remains can’t be described. Some say it is “one” or “oneness.” But it isn’t oneness. It is also many, and also nothing or noneness. Some say it is not two, which might be the most accurate way to refer to it. So what is “it.” It’s it. Epic! It is what is is without elaboration, this that is, this that is here. All that is sensed (it isn’t really sense) exactly as it is. All that is nonsensed. The nervousness, the anxiety, the pain. This that is, precisely, exactly as it already is, turns out to be what is longed for, the antidote for the fear of nothing forever, because it is finally noticed that this that is is just what nothing forever happens to look like. Nothing forever, weirdly enough, turns out to be invariantly innocent and sweet, and bursting with love. All labels actually refer to nothing forever, the sweet eternally morphing apparent. All of life’s circumstances, in the end, turn out to be an invitation from invariant unconditional love to itself to “wake up” or notice these self evident truths. Accept the invitation, be seduced. Look within. Fall in love. Since it happens to be the case there there isn’t an isolatable separate thing, neither within or without. It also happens to be the case that that humans are (even if they don’t know it) communal, giving creatures. Giving, or committing acts of love, turns out to be the most potent satisfaction. All other attempts at satisfaction fail because they are remedies for a figment of the imagination. Satisfaction is only a physical sensation, and is only achieved by satisfying the communal creature’s inherent motives, not the imaginary ones.