do not think about this
it is not here for your pleasure
not waiting self-less
for some deathly embrace
as if it were not already perfect
and rising starkly, gently behind you
perusing the pages of your eyes
passing no judgment
straighten your back
and fly into the sunset
as you were meant to –
objectless, void, unsundered
by the sheer presence of its wings
will you be lifted
footprints trailing clouds
into what has always known you
pulling the threads of your heart
it makes your fists close hard
about what you can never grasp
the light to your shadow
a silence around your music
forgeless and forging
you become its thoughts
it is no it
I AM
We take as given the idea of distinction and the idea of indication, and that we cannot make an indication without drawing a distinction. We take, therefore, the form of distinction for the form.
If this doesn’t strike you as having a “mystical” flavor, then you are drinking the wrong concoction. I’m not going to try to explain this, but rather I’m going to try to re-frame it; you could say, in GSB-approved language, that I’m going to re-mark it. The important thing to note about this, the very first “official” sentence of the LoF, is that it is recursive. Let’s be clear: the Laws of Form (not the book, the LAWS) are only possible because of a recursion, a throwing back on itself of itself. But a throwing back of what onto itself?
Well, “nothing”, of course; but nothing understood as what everything would be if it were.
But of course nothing doesn’t remain nothing (well, it does, but it doesn’t), because here we are. The question GSB is really attempting to get at is the question: (more…)
There is a necessary recursion at the very heart of epistemology. Epistemology can never be founded upon a principle of linearity, where thinking traces its origin to something that lies before thinking, and somehow emerges or grows out of it, because the very existence of this “before”, whatever its nature, must always be assumed BY THINKING itself, as a distinction within thinking.
Therefore, the only proper starting point for an epistemology is the fundamental distinction OF distinction itself, by thinking FOR thinking, which constitutes the basis of all further distinction, and is implicit in it. The fundament of epistemology must be the recursive distinction of distinction. The nature of this self-distinction (distinction of distinction by distiction) is implicitly infinitely recursive, and identifies the very nature of thinking to be at its root one of distinction. Its implicit infinitude is a key aspect of thinking’s foundation, with definite consequences. It means that thinking is fundamentally (not secondarily) FREE: its potential to distinguish is unlimited. There is nothing that lies outside of thinking’s potential.
The consequences of this are more than epistemological, they are ontological. Thinking, infinite in its potential, is (more…)
Frank Chester (find out about his initial work here, and read reviews of his work here) has just returned from a very well received presentation of his research on the Chestahedron at SunbridgeCollege in Spring Valley, New York. Many in the audience expressed disappointment afterwards that they had not notified their friends to attend these lectures because they did not realize that they would be witness to such an astonishing presentation.
Frank will be repeating these lectures this week in Fair Oaks at the Anthroposophia Conference as listed below. For those who wish to attend single lectures apart from the rest of the conference, the charge is $10 for students and $20 for adults
This is a good time to invite your friends and associates if they would like to hear about his discoveries, because Frank is planning on cutting back on his lecture schedule after this week so he can return to his research. You may download an attachment to this email, which provides some written information that may be helpful towards understanding what Frank’s work is about.
Frank will be presenting his work on the following dates:
today I stand on the horizon
beyond the vast, known spaces
my steps tracing a Moebius membrane
as the white sea pours through my heart
no there, no past, no unwanted memory
–all swept lovingly into the waves
seeds for waiting oysters
did you know that I could fly?
I didn’t either until the wind caught my wings,
and the rock’s weighty tomes fell ponderously away
like the unexpected removal of an atrophied, forgotten limb
the only thing between my life and some great height
it was the sound of the air rippling behind the gulls wing,
the inevitable pulsing call of invisibly present stars
–shining. always shining
and I eagerly ask
who is singing the song that calls the fruit to bud?
what whispered word ripens them? why must our ears be so ignorant?
does not silent nature speak with my mouth?
touch with my porous skin? cry these salty tears?
nature, like an atrophied, forgotten limb, has been removed
–or perhaps I am the limb of nature,
which, only newly awakened, cannot yet know its mother
for I usurp her ears, her skin, her tears,
assume them like a mask stretched taught over this shifting body
while I forget how my wings lift me up
though their rhythm ever flows on
which is why I am here, cradled by the rocks and wind
endless waves spread out before my dangling feet,
waiting to reach the horizon
