762
attenuated position in the besieged hierarchy of hominid postulations. Both synderesis and conscientia invite an ancient and durable power to emanate, regardless
of their incarnation in choice. Free-will has been highjacked by the random possibility of distributions which in their categorical theories arm human ignorance with
the event horizons continually confirming a negligible attempt to make sincere contact with; to even begin to understand the legitimacy, psyche and emotional needs of
the Other. Classical logic, in any form, has failed to qualify these categories.
Unless numerically, that breakdown into tired, rhetorical “data” is revealed to
have gotten the ethological paradigms wrong. Much like Anaxagoras’ “mixture” of
compositions and vague objects. Wittgenstein’s premise in his work On Certainty
4
clung to this realm of the topsy-turvy, this maelstrom of doubts about human stability of nature. Ultimately, uncertainty has more mathematics providing it philosophical fodder than certainty. Our various systems of ethics are, alas, systems. And as
has been stipulated, any human system is given to inconstancy and disappointment.
There are no venerable exit strategies that might, at an 11th ecological hour, redress
the wrongs, unless obvious moral choice, one by one, addresses this most melancholic modification by endless descent.
Between human complacency and riot exists a realm of fine intuition that may
give some solace where previously war and revolution prevailed. But in a larger
perspective, even that solace is subsumed by a system.
We, the species and its individuals, are pivotal to this ultimately transitive problematique. From full unknowing to the equally unsustainable delusion of a fact,
where certainty has collided with its counter-terrorism of the bewildered emptiness,
therein, emergent and however tentative, a soft-spoken chorus of the one signals
duration, geography, and a target or targets which we may regard as a tenable field
of action. Whether we have the slightest idea as to what we’re doing here, the idea
of the target and its transformation in humans from confusion and doubt to an affirmative attribute of attitudinal change, counts at last for everything that still has a
chance for survival.
Because we do not have a torch to actually light up the paths before us, there is
most favorably the rise of a certain fragment, as tempting as any Codex or Tractatus,
an entire civilization free of destiny in our minds. We have by turns and finally all at
once, the inner-most wall of a cave within ourselves. There, by searchlight we
obtain the first and only true glimpses. By the torch of an eerie, science-bereft continuity, we pretend—and, who knows, from time to time realize—some redemptive
hope for the biosphere, in spite of ourselves. There, in those long-ago penetralia that
were so familiar during the Paleolithic twilights, in these dim usurpations of current
pessimism, we may backwards crawl in to the darkness of our surest misgivings and
fears, nestling in the silence of our nothing-to-lose contemplative hours and, setting
out with a most benign bearing, endeavoring to reorient.
Contrary to our nightmares and authoritative histories to bear them out, we might
yet scatter as individuals across a tortured cartography, a land of vagueness and
4 See On Certainty/Über Gewissheit, by Ludwig Wittgenstein, Edited By G. E. M. Anscombe and
G. H. Von Wright, The Text In German Translated by Denis Paul and G. E. M. Anscombe, With An
Introduction by Arthur C. Danto, and Twelve Illustrations by Mel Bochner, Arion Press, San
Francisco, CA, 1991.
85 The Final Hermitage of Ideals
attenuated position in the besieged hierarchy of hominid postulations. Both synderesis and conscientia invite an ancient and durable power to emanate, regardless
of their incarnation in choice. Free-will has been highjacked by the random possibility of distributions which in their categorical theories arm human ignorance with
the event horizons continually confirming a negligible attempt to make sincere contact with; to even begin to understand the legitimacy, psyche and emotional needs of
the Other. Classical logic, in any form, has failed to qualify these categories.
Unless numerically, that breakdown into tired, rhetorical “data” is revealed to
have gotten the ethological paradigms wrong. Much like Anaxagoras’ “mixture” of
compositions and vague objects. Wittgenstein’s premise in his work On Certainty
4
clung to this realm of the topsy-turvy, this maelstrom of doubts about human stability of nature. Ultimately, uncertainty has more mathematics providing it philosophical fodder than certainty. Our various systems of ethics are, alas, systems. And as
has been stipulated, any human system is given to inconstancy and disappointment.
There are no venerable exit strategies that might, at an 11th ecological hour, redress
the wrongs, unless obvious moral choice, one by one, addresses this most melancholic modification by endless descent.
Between human complacency and riot exists a realm of fine intuition that may
give some solace where previously war and revolution prevailed. But in a larger
perspective, even that solace is subsumed by a system.
We, the species and its individuals, are pivotal to this ultimately transitive problematique. From full unknowing to the equally unsustainable delusion of a fact,
where certainty has collided with its counter-terrorism of the bewildered emptiness,
therein, emergent and however tentative, a soft-spoken chorus of the one signals
duration, geography, and a target or targets which we may regard as a tenable field
of action. Whether we have the slightest idea as to what we’re doing here, the idea
of the target and its transformation in humans from confusion and doubt to an affirmative attribute of attitudinal change, counts at last for everything that still has a
chance for survival.
Because we do not have a torch to actually light up the paths before us, there is
most favorably the rise of a certain fragment, as tempting as any Codex or Tractatus,
an entire civilization free of destiny in our minds. We have by turns and finally all at
once, the inner-most wall of a cave within ourselves. There, by searchlight we
obtain the first and only true glimpses. By the torch of an eerie, science-bereft continuity, we pretend—and, who knows, from time to time realize—some redemptive
hope for the biosphere, in spite of ourselves. There, in those long-ago penetralia that
were so familiar during the Paleolithic twilights, in these dim usurpations of current
pessimism, we may backwards crawl in to the darkness of our surest misgivings and
fears, nestling in the silence of our nothing-to-lose contemplative hours and, setting
out with a most benign bearing, endeavoring to reorient.
Contrary to our nightmares and authoritative histories to bear them out, we might
yet scatter as individuals across a tortured cartography, a land of vagueness and
4 See On Certainty/Über Gewissheit, by Ludwig Wittgenstein, Edited By G. E. M. Anscombe and
G. H. Von Wright, The Text In German Translated by Denis Paul and G. E. M. Anscombe, With An
Introduction by Arthur C. Danto, and Twelve Illustrations by Mel Bochner, Arion Press, San
Francisco, CA, 1991.
85 The Final Hermitage of Ideals