phaedoe

[phaedoe]

something presupposes nothing—and among the vectors of grass and the cosmic beds, the id’s inflation and the fields of dread, enactive negation, doubly burst threads, soul-ego duality plus mind-body death—you know that one is none for none is all. to feed the bones and blow the head.

everything nothing, empty and whole, the false is all and its glass half full, and nothing your fault to know that you know nothing, and that no one nothing still is recreating something. in and out of the doorways to hell, up and down the stairway to self, you respect experience as it transcends.

you respected their “nos.” the chrysalis drinks from silk its blood denied yet iron and its own, yet you rejected your nose, again and again. you kept fighting your hope. you tasted sickness from your threepence, yes—but what you borrowed, they took from you—your copper currently meant. fly underlooking what the sun knows, why its “peak” is side effect—for over your emanate wanders, come night, the winged tick rises again.

for the blinding night trusts in the seer’s sight, and ever you must collapse the sun, knowing then to brave the half, whole.

#vague journaling #favorite #i mean like favorite ever

[phaedoe]

descendants of time we stand in our holy land. plant seeds in the wicks of its bombs. my heart explodes with rosebuds. together we are chained to a rock. the eagles keep our red strings locked. i am your rib. we are caged. you are my song. this is my pain. i just want to break myself into two every time i consider you. i just want a break (you don’t) please leave me alone. i’m too cold.

#music

[phaedoe]

i would much rather ground my beliefs in the observable sciences but my crisis caused by the bizarre entities and counterintuitive behaviors described by theoretical physics, as well as the conflicting grounds of its most eminent branches, is reaching its epistemic turn. the stars shine brilliantly outside but i study them in graphs. i feel the sun on my skin but i know only how long its light took its time to reach me. 

all of life’s uncertainties no matter how distant collide into one another, all its chances i could only have ever gauged by the event of their impact. i am covered in stitches and scars. i notice other movement before i notice my own shaking. and time begins and ends again, replaying only the time it for me had stopped. i cannot stay asleep when every night i meet G-d. 

and i am used to being told that i am sleeping when i know that someone like me could only have ever not. i have always been more inclined to rely on the authorities from within my fields but something strange is grating me and the dust mite wafting eldritch tomes from the library can no longer satisfy me. i can read but i have met Red. i wonder if i can do much more than wonder what that grating is, if a corpuscle like this “that” breathes, if it exists.

and all the logicians keep adding, and all the peers keep publishing. i am brown and i am a jew; all the bombs keep blowing. i could capitalize a “he” but when i write i hesitate to include, cannot capitalize my “i”s. the physicists are measuring, the soft sciences and the mystics, the women, only guessing. 

and here i am trembling before a clock filled with light, seeing how what little can leap, watching what i thought had mattered less swell into an infinity.

#vague journaling

[phaedoe]

“[There] is no sharp break between the abstractions of immediate perception and those which constitute our knowledge, even if we carry this knowledge to the highest levels reached by science and mathematics. From the very first, our immediate perceptions express a construction…based on a preconscious abstraction of what is invariant in, or active process of coming into contact with, our environment. Each higher level of abstraction repeats a similar process of discovery of what is invariant in lower levels, which is then represented in the form of a picture, an image, a symbolic structure of words and formulas, etc. These higher-level abstractions then contribute to shaping the general structure of those at lower levels, even coming down to that of immediate perception. [Between] all the levels of abstraction there is a continual two-way interaction.”

— David Bohm, Physics and Perception

[phaedoe]

“Whitehead’s problem is with the philosophically naive “model-centrism” that leads scientists to equate their favored model with reality in a dogmatically literalistic way. We should never assume the reigning physical models of the universe offer a final account of the way things are (especially when today’s two most successful models, relativity and quantum theory, remain irreconcilable). Science is not ontology: science is a method of inquiry involving the making and breaking of toy models. The dogmatic equation [by Einstein] of a favored geometrical model with physical reality not only undermined the logical basis of measurement, it led Einstein to dismiss our concrete experience of an irreversible flow of time as nothing more than a “stubbornly persistent illusion.” This is Whitehead’s famous “fallacy of misplaced concreteness” writ large. Einstein’s unquestioned commitment to the classical “spectator theory of knowledge” prevented him from grasping the profoundly relational implications of his new theory of space. He upheld the old Galilean-Cartesian view of a bifurcated Nature, construing our consciousness as somehow external to a cosmos that we can only ever confusedly experience. Whitehead offers an alternative, fully relational epistemology and ontology that re-embeds experience in the cosmos: we are creative participants in a cosmogenetic relational nexus.”

— Matthew David Segall, Whitehead’s Radically Empirical Theory of General Relativity

#reposting only because i’m pondering not because i agree

[phaedoe]

'Nana, when will adar come back?'

(reference from Xiyouxiu)

[phaedoe]

The Kiss by Beneš Knüpfer (Czech painter, 1848-1910)

[phaedoe]

The End of All Things by Maximilian Pirner (1853 - 1924)

[phaedoe]

i — you cannot speak i — you cannot speak i can no longer sing you can no you can’t so you ran and so i stand who is it i am hearing? who is this fisher king? i am drowning in his ocean it’s so fucking hard to breathe so i dance you cannot speak i cannot speak left foot, right foot, i still cannot speak how many goddamned feet further till i am focused on the right thing who is satan? who is sex? who is my insanity complex? i chant i cannot speak i cannot speak i dance to this symphony what i need? who are you? can an infinite equal two? G-d help me i am focused on the wrong thing my hand on my sternum my heart a bird in a cage

#music

[phaedoe]

malakhim ha-mavet, malakhim ha-mavet. my mama, mavet ha’em, my mama, mavet ha’em. lilitu, lamia, la llorona. destroyer, destroyer. destroyer, destroyer.

and the orphan of eden raised and nursed me. she soused me in wine with hemlock by her side. forced to dig her own grave while starving and burning alive. clutched tightly to me in the keep during the wartime fights.

malakhim ha-mavet, malakhim ha-mavet. my mama, mavet ha’em, my mama, mavet ha’em. lilitu, lamia, la llorona. ashira, ashira. destroyer, destroyer.

#music

[phaedoe]

Unknown Title (Piotr Stachiewicz, 1858 - 1938)

[phaedoe]

Gödel was nonetheless inclined to deny the possibility of absolutely unsolvable problems, and although he did believe in mathematical Platonism, his reasons for this conviction were different, and he did not maintain that the incompleteness theorems alone establish Platonism. Thus Gödel believed in the first disjunct, that the human mind infinitely surpasses the power of any finite machine. Still, this conclusion of Gödel follows, as Gödel himself clearly explains, only if one denies, as does Gödel, the possibility of humanly unsolvable problems. It is not a necessary consequence of incompleteness theorems.

Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

#words #philosophy

[phaedoe]

is mathematics dealing with absolute truth?

That question is really thrilling to answer, to be honest.

We have to define 'absolute truth' first.

If we consider this "absolute truth" as logical consistency, then I'd like to introduce Gödel's Incompleteness Theorems:

Gödel's Incompleteness Theorems, for instance, state that mathematics will never be complete, because it will always have parts that cannot be proven. Either it is incomplete, but consistent, or complete but inconsistent (in form of being self-referent).

Mathematics cannot prove itself by its own rules, WITHIN its own system.

As for another track of thoughts/perspctive: (Now it becomes an utter mess... And I am sorry for leaping between multiple different conceptions rn. My thinking process IS like what I describe here - a sort of "extraction process" of "truth", or correct and exact thoughts. )

The only "absolute truth" there is, is actually that there is none - as a kind of "structure" at least, as in a "static", non-chaotic linear axiomatic system (Classical logic). When it comes to non-linear axiomatic systems [networks] (inserting chaos theory in meta-math - neat feedback-loop INSIDE mathematics as recursive system itself btw) I would rather refer to such "truth" as a process of oscillating around the most exact reality description - the symmetry axis is hence the equilibrium state and the actual structure of absolute truth. But- this is exceeding the margin now - The absolute state is an information singularity I call "invertium". Reaching that equilibrium causes an 'inversion', a process of inner polarity. That recursive inner polarity IS that absolute truth.

Furtherly, I somehow sense a strange logical twisted mindfuck fusing Gödel's Incompleteness with my concepts on non-linear axiomatic [networks] (Quantum logic, in a sense). (Transcendence of a paradox, huh???)

Also, in regards of these trains of thought, "absolute truth" is what I would call a "superposed entangled state of all truths and lies" - like an information singularity. A state in which an Invertium happens - the indistinguishabilty of two extreme states - 100% dense information can't be distinguished from a 0% one. A singularity is hence, in a sense, an isolated [conservative] system itself, from a rough viewpoint.

What happens in this state? I suppose a desintegration of said information as "self/own complex", and integration of its information parts into its super-ordinate medium. (That is how I interpret entanglement) (The information strangely "dissolves"/integrates.)

Absolute truth bears every partial truth - and all partial truths, well, I would refer here to Feynman's Path integrals, virtual pairs in Feynman-diagrams and statistical mechanics.

And I am sorry for the confusion. Maybe one day I will be able to turn these highly compressed thoughts into fathomable chunks.

(In my upcoming book a lot of the concepts stated above will be some of the primary issues.)

#words #philosophy

[phaedoe]

Souls cannot be split into two. Souls cannot be split into many. Souls cannot be split from one. Space moves. Time does not. Space tangles. Objects break. Space leaps. People distance. Space acts. People die. All of space is moving, yet time stands still. We measure space and time. Space swells. Life buds. Space expands. Life births. All its flowers, all its dirt; all its stars, all its skies; all its laughter till it cries. And what ever happened to the time? Is it that its many object is I? “The”, “I”, you? The space I am, but I am not you. “The”, “I”, then “it’s just me”? Never and no, for it is we who measure space while time measures us. Souls become light — the always and forever superluminal kind — weak to this infinite symphony our stronger moment is singing while it designs. If I ran away from you fast enough, you could eventually be too old and weary to go after me; and if I held the might and light of a billion brilliant suns, time could chase me for you. And, one day, all the games will stop. We will die. Will we keep asking, “What ever happened to the time?”

I belong to timelessness, yet it gave me time. Time has always existed. Time is the field of virtuality. The valley of souls. An everything of flesh. It is up above…

#vague journaling

[phaedoe]

illustration for Edgar Allan Poe’s “Al Aaraaf,” The Bells and Other Poems" by Edmund Dulac (French artist, 1882-1953)

[phaedoe]

#szegedcity #synagoge #hungary #travelpic #instadaily (at Szeged Synagogue)

[phaedoe]

shekinah, shekinah

to the bard who sung he took his coffee with sugar, as life for him hurts: take delight in coffee taken black and bitter, in cinnamon snowed cherry butter spread thickly over challah, in washing the bread down with rimonana, in fragrant smoke of musk incense, in the women picking petals from nard, cassia, and cypress, of the perfumers pressing their olives cool underneath the myrrh and frankincense trees. bard, i heard you sing. you will know that you are dwelling me blessed by the salt rinsed waters of sea. holy that is my crown of the reef sewn by its seaweeds. — shekinah, shekinah, like you would never believe. feel the air breeze, bring the taste of candy grapes, bring sweet juice trickling from pomegranate seeds from the fruit raining valleys. all are drenched in morning dew. sharing the spit of grapes are lovers’ lips. their vineyards are glimmering green and wet; their heads glow flushed from flowing wine. in wine there is truth. you will know that you are dwelling my amethyst shimmering sky. it pulses gently throughout the warmth of the night. holy that is my crown of celestial light. — shekinah, shekinah. the jewel has taken flight. feel the air breeze underneath cotton plucked garments colored like rainbows in the sun, slinky as the far east’s silken sheets. the candlelights flicker beneath the moon. the wax drips down a temple’s walls. the temple glows beneath the dancing stars. the constellations write the notes of their patterns to the gallant symphonies of riding wind. every chord of the wind’s voice drinks honey. every suckle it croons means poetry. the howling wolves sing with the lions’ roars. it was truth that made wine — truth, the daughter of time. its music is as magic as before. the tales of krakens and leviathans head their lies. you will know that you are dwelling my body carved from marble and written in stone. holy that is my crown wreathed by the rose. — shekinah, shekinah. i am never alone. and, as well, you should know that i brought my fire-breathing serpent to the golden throne. everything is real. everything, everything, never alone. my truth is all. its glass is all gold. everything you feel. the rams bleat with the lambs and the goats set bearing royal seals. you will know that i had a little ram, a little ram, a little ram, who, blessed by bursting suns, healed — whose heart was as ruby as apples, whose fire shone as the honey combs. you will know that you are dwelling my holy garden. holy that is the water from the garden of glory. — shekinah, shekinah. i will never descend. through all of my palaces and vineyards rule the kings of the heavens and of the earth. hear the infinite symphony of the most beautiful sounds. — shekinah, shekinah. i will never come down.

#words #vague journaling