Words are as powerful as they are cheap.
I just spent what man might consider a religious experience in nature.
Nature.. the most beautiful, chaotic, symmetrical, geometrical, powerful work of art to ever exist. The source that inspires art, and yet, never once did I see nature confined or framed, outside of the names and classifications that man has given to it.
Once again, a fellow philosopher and friend has identified for me another cultural trap of hidden symbolic dualities in the “frame”… a further representation of how man conformed to one standard of presenting his work – detached; the frame representing borders, like those invisible lines in the sand separating nations.
It is herein that the idea is challenged, or perhaps asked, as to how deep it may run, of just how unaware we might be of how extreme our conditioning goes or how far our allegiance with our standards and beliefs have gone.
It wasn’t taking authorship… framing… defining… separating… labeling… differentiating, that sides were created to defend. The need to be a critic, automatically predisposes us to be forced to think about what we are feeling about what we are seeing, and then taking that feeling and translating it into the limiting confines of a manmade medium to define something that is define-less… frameless… : ART.
The first drawings, replicating that of the seeming motion of the sun, arbitrarily came without any prior understanding of the concept of what we know now as art, but instead, took the form of the transmutation of stick, earth and stone into pictorial representations of what would later be known as our primordial language. No rules, no standards, just unobstructed expression of the human soul on clay. One might have considered this drawing the first form of writing before the schism between these two modalities.
Today we refer to writing as the arrangement of words in linear fashion, which are made of of letters, which are actually pictures, or symbols, with predetermined meaning made by men. Along with this process came the restrictive toolset of grammar, another prearranged limitation of the representation or the symbol. The invention of proper syntax required that our children be forced into an institutionalized standard that claims to teach, but instead, determines the mediums appropriate in which to express oneself. Written language has become that which now places more focus on the method as opposed to the process and it is in this confusion of the definition of language itself, that we have forgotten that we have always possessed the ability to create our limitless own.
He who has mastered the art of writing is he who writes in a way that, instead of adhering to structure, is able to transcend the barriers of our physical limitations, and uses the symbol to once again paint like the men and women in the catacombs with unimpeded minds.
With the development of spoken language followed the invention of writing and recording information. Articulated volumes were sought and looked to as infallible truths due to the power and status that came with transcription in its early days. As the masters of these tools fine tuned their ability to impact persuasion on a pervertedly outstanding scale, stories and religions were fashioned, even plagiarized, from earlier nomadic and pagan traditions, and individuals sought less and less their own stories, customs or trust in his or her own visions. The human being, in time, required less rationalization behind his or her imposed belief systems.
In current times, with the exponential availability of information via the Internet and assorted media outlets, also came the dilution and contradiction of these instantaneous answers. While our tribal village has been eradicated by the enslavement and manipulation of interests and ideals, the social media tool, as it expands its global reaches, has also become simultaneously demystified.
Now that the layman has access to the pen and is free to publish his own written word, those of a particular integrity, have begun to dismiss what has been recorded as absolute certainties, and is using the modalities that once enslaved, to cross reference, debunk and formulate weapons of intellectual defense.
In a sense, what once destroyed the commune and individual, bred what ultimately strives to set that system back in its place.
“As above so below.”
When we get so tightly pulled in… forced in… the only direction left to go is to expand.
I have been both fascinated and overwhelmed by the wild ride of [the history of] language, and the contradictions it can impose. It is the force that connects us all, yet, segregates us. Keeps us linearly fashioned and unable to see the whole, yet makes us part of it all the same. Many have claimed that the invention of language encouraged the suppression of the Goddess, the feminine, or right brain modalities, in other words.
We come from a history of hierarchy because those who, with the ability to read, write and utilize language, put this knowledge under lock and key. As a result, we now live in a society where it is outrageously standard to charge for information. It is now the norm to pay for “secrets”. So now it is even harder for those coming from a place of humility to feel comfortable in being so forthright in revealing what it is they have learned. Concealing understanding comes with a sense of unwarranted power, and it is those who are true at heart who often feel the most hesitant in sharing. The best teachers are those who have retreated to the caves – those whom hold no desire to teach.
Even now when reading a passage that resonates with my own thoughts, a silent understanding sometimes isn’t enough. I still feel that immediate urge to share it with the world that comes with the electronic age and there is a certain type of alienation that comes with this. Most do not relate, nor care, or are just on their own agenda. And it is after realizing this, after we still possess the desire to dig deeper all the while knowing it is a fruitless path, that we know we are on the “right” path(-less path).
I find that the more things begin to make sense to me, the less sense I begin to make to everyone else. If it only gets bigger the deeper you go, then no wonder so often the solitary traveler mistakens the vastness of his righteous journey with that of an empty playing field. The bigger it gets, the smaller you also become. The fewer you meet, but the more worthwhile they are.