Alric's Musings

[Alric Lysane]

I think humans are intrinsically idealistic, and I don’t mean it in the usual meaning, I think it is in the philosophical bent of the term. People want the ‘ideal’ of everything – whether that be political movement, governing mechanism, economic model or even down to the ‘smallest’ of things – the conversations we have with our loved ones. We have this almost conditioned view that ‘something should be x or y’ and if it turns out to be z then that means something has gone wrong. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, the ancients were big believers in idealism in the philosophical sense and, let me be honest, who am I to argue with Plato? But I do think their perspectives were tempered by their intrinsic understanding that ‘only the Gods can gain perfection’- which is a fancy way of saying that, for you and me, there is a grey area in the middle that we have to live in, and suffer through. In short, try as you might, things will never go fully smoothly or how you want them – deal with it. Still, it is an unfathomable miracle that humans still try to pursue such an ideal perspective, it speaks to us on a deep level and calls through the fog of life to tell us that there is something beyond the shitty grey of pure materialistic suffering that matters more than the trials along the way – because the idea of such perfections keeps the very idea of it alive. Such a mechanism is open to terrible abuse (see all sorts of current and historical things) but its simple existence is why we started with a few mushrooms and spiritual experiences, whenever our species began (I had many arguments with my professors over that – see later entries no doubt) and now look up at the stars and actually have the ability to begin to touch them, perhaps even in our lifetime. In short, it’s not all bad, stop overthinking shit and star appreciating. ‘What a piece of work is man’ is something that stuck with me in my studies – Shakespeare, what a diabolically fucking smart man. Reams of parchment have been wasted upon that quote – about how it is at first bold, and then sad, about man, and why. Few, unless they have read the Corpus Hermetica, actually realise where that quote is stolen from – and spoilers it was about the amazing nature of man and our ability to transcend so much. I feel pretty sure that is what Shakespeare felt considering his works. Why do I bring this up? To illustrate how even the brightest of scholars don’t actually know what they are talking about…and if that is the case to suggest that all of us don’t really truly know our place in things. Where we belong, what we have to contribute and all of the rest I tend to believe, on balance, that if more thought were given to such things then all of our lives would be ‘better’. I blame electric light sources, if you really wanted to know that. Why? Because when that light pollution came in, we as a species lost the ability (at least many of us in dense/moderate populations) lost the ability to casually be reminded how small we are when looking upon infinity. I freely admit to the holes in that theory but I still like it – call me human. Infinity you say? Oh Buzz, you are hopeful. I have recently been taken to muse upon eternity, the soul and its place in it, and in general the idea that we are but material shells with little else to offer to others beyond the tattered refuse of our own discarded linen wrappings of intellect. I have mused upon such things for many years, but recently events have made me reconsider with a certain amount of a vengeance. It has led me to wonder whether the real reason such a hyper material perspective exists is to provide an excuse to people. Why even bother build a better world for the future ten generations if there is no punishment for it? Is that simplistic? Probably. Is it entirely wrong? No, I don’t think so. It seems fashionable to tear down the old these days so that we can be whatever definition of progressive seems to dominate on that given day…but how progressive is that actually? Yesterday I spent the day with my mother and father, both of whom lived in South-East London for much of their lives. My father played upon the scattered rubble of bombed out buildings still not rebuilt from WW2 that we suffered for the freedom of an entire continent (and more on matter what the Americans want to believe)– we get no honour for this these days. He told me stories about doing his homework upon the doorstep because his mother turned fuzzies for money because normal work was just too difficult – needless to say he instilled into me the more idealistic version of hard work for coin. He grafted all of his life to make sure his own children would never even be touched by such things (and more I learned). My mother has always been a Titan – she has a voice all Drill Instructors would envy. She can make army men and store managers stand to attention just with her inflection of words – she is the pure embodiment of authority without the need to ‘physically educate’ – as I have aged I appreciate and learn from this more. Why do I share this? Because this is my ideal version of them. They are human and have flaws sure, but the overwhelming theme of their lives is to be the ideal that they tried (and perhaps in some ways failed) to achieve. Does this make them bad? No fucking way. It makes them human. I still hope that I will live up to who they are, and how they raised me. So…Idealism is an ever present spectre inside our hearts and souls. But it is one that can be tricky and false as Gollum would say. Because it is our Precious, and when we don’t ge tit we freak and throw a wobbler and all sorts. I have watched since I became an adult how a world reacts to such things, and though I would not claim to be the wisest I do think that it is something that is being missed. Do you know the last British politician to ‘tell the truth’? It was Theresa May. I didn’t like her, but she told the truth when she said that, basically, ‘we have to suffer economic crap because of xyz and times will be shitty’ and she got a terrible vote because of it. We all say that ‘we want to be told the truth’ but actually, when it comes right down to the pure idealistic vision…we wimp out. And I bet that there are a score of times, if you truly put your own feet to the flames, where that is the case. Anyone who says otherwise is either not human or is lying. So…idealism. Modern things would have you define it as thus:   ‘The unrealistic belief in or pursuit of perfection’ Not untrue, but let’s look at the older perspective: ‘Any of various systems of thought in which the objects of knowledge are held to be in some way dependent on the activity of mind’ In other words – the truth is out there, and it is your responsibility to find it. Mulder would be proud. Yet that is not actually the full thing – because the internet is a mire of rewriting and this is no different. Idealism actually dictates that ‘thing’ exists in an ideal state in some ether somewhere. That a table, for example, is but a shallow echo of an ‘ideal table’ that exists somewhere nebulous that we can never truly define. Is this metaphysically impossible – no. Does it leave us, a couple thousand years of corrupted message later – with a shitstorm…abso-fucking-lutely. And you can thank the more educated pagans for it, though later institutions didn’t help. So, we live now wanting the ideals but never truly understanding their roots, where the thinking came from or even how it works. We just are, existing without thinking, wishing for more and wating an ‘ideal’ that we can’t even define anymore. Is it a bigger butt, a bigger bank account, or a bigger influence on others…who the fuck knows anymore. We have lost our roots, and the foliage just grows regardless, feeding upon other food sources. So why has this been bothering me enough that I have typed this up? Funerals are a shitty thing really, aren’t they? I know that they provide closure, believe me. And I know that some ceremony should happen, needs to happen really, for the living. What they do achieve, whether you like it or not, is to make you question. Have you led a good life? Would you get past those gates? And so on. I think, actually, that they may be a saviour of sorts in that regard. Makes you take stock of your life. What have you done for others, really done? How many would heartfully circle your grave and give thanks? Have you done all that you can do? Like Dickens and Scrooge but without the muppets and hopefully without the actual Death appearance crap. My father sat on the doorstep and studied. My mother gave me life. Her father died recently and she was bedridden, but I went to visit her and she summoned up more strength than I can imagine to spend the day with me and Ico (I may have bribed her with new climber plants for her trellis)…but how many people can really say they even understand their lives, let alone what they still give? I don’t think many can, they live surrounded by too much crap to do so. But how do you measure those things? Truly measure? Is it by what others have done? Or is it how you feel, deep down, in your human idealistic heart? I think that it is the latter, no matter the cynicism. And I think we live ‘idealistic’ lives even if we don’t realise it. Which is why it hurts so much when things don’t go to plan. Or how we like. And that is why life is like pain, even if we try to escape it. Because, all of us, no matter what we hold in the depth of our hearts and the waves of our souls, want what is ‘ideal’…just for our own given ‘ideal’…for the world and the people in it. And we fail…as is right. Because the ideal should be an inescapable thing (later on that)