Non mortale quod opto 5
BEATRIZ
Henry Bergson's famous thesis in Matière et Memoire—according to you yourself, he was your paternal grandmother's favorite philosopher, who had the complete works in her mansion, in the original, and which you devoured early in your life—is that the "past" doesn't represent something that was, but SOMETHING THAT IS, and which heads with itself in the present, whatever or whenever that may be: Bergson's famous VIRTUAL. Proust, the philosopher's cousin, conceived of the past in much the same way, but added the "question" of how to rescue or revive it. What year is G.H. Wells's book THE TIME MACHINE from? For Proust, it is through "involuntary memory" that the old context becomes contiguous or simultaneous with the present sensation --- the old context is "internalized," and the difference between past and present is "internalized," made immanent, including all sensible qualities (of color, temperature, etc.), providing the ideal plateau (the most profitable and astonishing possible) for the Toltec practice of recapitulation and ensoño.
K
Without a doubt: "a little time in its purest state" (apud Proust). In Proust's "minute freed from time," the spirit wanders freely through a limitless expanse whose vision is that of infinity itself, and applying the techniques of Toltec recapitulation to the Proustian procedure is like injecting German music (the one that most predisposes to the depths) into the Recherche in motion, and transforming that meager "minute" into hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades---in short, into a "life freed from time," expressly destined to drink beer in an eternal tropical summer, with a timeless blaze fully illuminating one's face, penetrating with its naked light the movement by which the self, converted into a phantom, opens to the surface and releases all its a-cosmic, impersonal, pre-individual, timeless singularities. If Proust's "minute freed from time" lends itself to the highest work of art, the "life freed from time" of the Toltek recapitulation lends itself to the alchemical work par excellence (the search for eternal youth or the elixir of long life).
BEATRIZ
(on her face you can now read the satisfaction of a perfect ghost, hearing her inorganic genealogy described so well, the ectoplasm of her bildunsroman --- à clef --- à clef d'un mystère)
The same vital alchemical principle in whose domain Bram Stocker (who belonged to the Golden Dawn) places the vampire in his Dracula, and from which all dimensions of time unfold in "lost time," to recognize in it eternity, the ineffable vision that makes all those present pass and then immediately abolish the contradiction of survival and nothingness in the instantaneous amalgam of the Self of Art, this pure infinitive verb, as it subsists in being --- the immortal ghost, the energetic egg or body without organs, is inseparable from this "pure-infinitive," undetermined, this larval amalgam of thought-forms that engender voices, fashions, times, people, in a verbal image of variable combinations that is a PURE HAPPENING, the noematic attribute of the ghost that transcends interior and exterior; this "second attention" (see Castaneda) a series of other individuals, images, scenes, voices, times, through which the DISSOLVED SELF passes. The effort of a lifetime of energetic impeccability to prepare for the Art and the Opus Magna gains strength in these moments, and the accomplished alchemist becomes capable of capturing his own essence --- no longer in the imprecise, secondary, obscure state in which he glimpsed such revelation and such abracadabra in the intermediate stages of the work, in which nervous affections made him suspicious of the masked night of the ages and their tumultuous existences, full of insolent pleasures and uncontrollable frenzies of power that paled him and made his heart pound with a feverish abundance of chaotic hallucinations, but rather in the calm, sudden exaltation whose illuminated certainty dispenses with words or explanations.
Continue in one minute
ResponderExcluirK
ResponderExcluirMy God! You've robbed me of the best part of being spoken in writing, Beatriz! Jusqu'à ce moment! Or as Flaubert would say in Madame Bovary, while "endless dances unfold in my imagination, and my thoughts, like a dancer on the flowers of a carpet." The Hemodélico parties only took place on Fridays and Saturdays, and whenever a Friday arrived, I would be up at five or six in the morning, preparing to wait the whole day, often drinking early, right at home, after a long walk along the shore, and applying all the magic of the visual dimension of my memory to make the dancing mermaids I had flirted and interacted with the previous week resurface, as early as eleven at night. I had tried unsuccessfully to find them between Monday and Thursday, along a ten-kilometer stretch of coastline from Rio Vermelho to Farol da Barra. He had certainly found others, but they were new, unprecedented, with which unfortunately he had not yet exchanged any tantric-telepathic flow, which gave them the status of sealed fruit, with infinitely less attraction than the "appearances" of party nights.
I was very hesitant to enter Hemodélico (which, back then—2017 to 2020—was free) on my first night, because the atmosphere in that neon-tube-and-fern-filled bar village was invariably overcrowded and very hot, a sweaty, two-story oven, full of side vents to the sea air, which, however, hardly attracted any night breeze, and whose human content was a compact, almost impenetrable mass of bodies crammed together, impossible to separate into distinct frames, or even scenes. That was my first, terrifying impression when I ventured inside, into Hemodélico (by no means a "quiet" party spot).
ResponderExcluirDespite identifying some “intersecting faces,” the Hemodélico crowd was notoriously different from the Bar-bitúrico crowd --- in the fringes of their skirts and shoes, and even in their hairstyles and makeup, in the brands of sneakers, pants, and shirts, in their body types and poses, and above all, in the harshness of their behavior and conversation itself. Everything indicated that there, unlike Bar-bitúrico (a somewhat LGBT bar), the atmosphere was heavily heterosexual and competitive, even aggressive, and under the neon electricity reflected in the ferns, with funk bass constantly blasting your eardrums, you never saw anyone “laughing a lot”: the young men went there to flaunt their supposed virility, to show off their lavishness, full of pretensions, ideas, and fantastic delusions about their own superiority, which involved a large dose of supposed macho intrepidity --- something that always, after a certain point, generated perilous discontent and an almost contagious irritability. When some preening peacock failed to achieve even minimal recognition, and the female flock denied him the honor, an ominous apprehension spread everywhere.
ResponderExcluirGenerally seductive, all the girls who went to Hemodélico carried their anxieties well disguised behind well-made-up faces, and affecting varying degrees of false aplomb, with colorful drinks in hand, they often risked smoking a cigarette, while identifying which visual confrontations they should establish to "rule the party"; and from what moment they should exercise their physical gifts by dancing, to fuse with the maximum possible verisimilitude their swaying images with the lyrics of tecno-brega (a mixture of funk and pagode from Bahia), which constantly talked about "being the hottest, about "cheating, standing out, getting revenge, being clever with women, showing off, bragging, in short, expanding themselves in the ostentatious and bustling environment until they felt the claws of their ego sharpening with a luxurious sensuality. Let's just say that, while this thorny dynamic was maintained, the party was (as they say) "rocking".
ResponderExcluirWhen signs of fatigue began to show, the DJs tried to remedy the general dispersion by playing calmer music, or with more romantic and melodious rhythms, whose vacuum of indeterminacy flirted with the point of excessive smoking where the alcoholic dream began to fade, wiping away any possibility of hooking up. When the dance floor "died," it truly left very little trace of what had been happening there just minutes before.
ResponderExcluirModesty aside, I adapted so quickly to that festive dynamic --- since, on the second attempt, "something in me" had opened that gap of telepathic interaction in the whole event, like one of those cracks that a storm creates, in a single night, in the side of a mountain ---, that it seemed irresistible to throw myself immediately into those psycho-magnetic intensities that, produced perhaps unconsciously by the whole, allow a ghost the possibility of "passing through them," a pasture of infinitesimal escape, crossed by (to quote Anti-Oedipus) "axes and thresholds, latitudes, longitudes, geodesics and gradients that mark the becomings and passages," for it is to the images that the ghost fixates, to the images as appearances, with all their unusual evanescence lent by the lascivious environment in which the DISSOLVED SELF glides and opens itself to a series of roles, which are actually other worlds, ghost worlds,
ResponderExcluirwhere the psychic intensity capable of becoming PURE VOLITION (will) is produced, the INTENT, this sensitive tremor within the forehead that indicates that the images are no longer people, nor the world, but rather beads on a necklace pierced by luminous threads or fibers, which indicates that the objects on the bodily surface of reality are being projected, at every instant, into a spiritual erogenous zone, which goes from the base of the spine to the pineal gland; and that, through a meditative tantric mechanism refined to exhaustion, the images are absorbed urethrally until they vibrate like ghosts at the point of projection of consciousness.
ResponderExcluirOf course, such a procedure is never limited to a simple internal partial object, which, psychologically projected or introjected (simulacrum), merely "thrives" parasitically in the psyche, distorting it and weakening it with the torturous feeling of its real absence. It is a matter of life or death to wait for the SECOND SCREEN, the metaphysical surface of inscription and recording (literary, psychic, imagistic, desiring), because without it (again with Deleuze, in The Logic of Sense) "there is nothing but SIMULACRUM" --- there is no GHOST. The great danger here is that, if one does not obtain, through initiations (meditative, tantric and artistic), the "second screen", the energetic egg or energy body, the metaphysical surface, is that "sexuality can destroy everything" (idem) --- "CASTRATION reacts on the material-corporal-sexual surface from where (without tantra) it results, and to which its outline still belongs; CASTRATION "breaks" the sexual surface, makes it reach the pieces of the depth, where inert simulacra thrive, and prevents all successful TRANSMUTATION AND SUBLIMATION --- prevents all development of the metaphysical surface and makes THOUGHT collapse at its POINT OF IMPOTENCE, on the line of erosion" (idem).
ResponderExcluirThe wonderful girl of the night is there, within my reach. Good night, how are you?, only with her eyes. For BY BEING SILENT, the body abandons us to silent imaginations, which enrich the blood with hormones and other neural "vehicles." Then, I find myself suspended, vaporized, in my own gaze --- I step outside myself and multiply myself in my gaze, there are many hellos and good nights at the same time, and there is nothing fake or virtual here, it is all alive and lived as I detach my smallest optical gestures from the heavy feeling of my SELF, without, however, ever "losing sight of myself"; I multiply myself in my gaze as much as they multiply under my eyes. The night is already a party, the dance floor is packed, everyone is dancing and drinking, the legs of all the girls penetrating their bodies, and now, the muse of the moment breathes in a gust of ocean wind that refreshes her eyelids, after hours without any wind there. The party music fills my ears, and it's pointless to say anything, even now that she's moved even closer to me, with a supportive friend. The flirting deepens to the point of immobile bewilderment.
ResponderExcluirHowever, I know that if I take a step toward her, the illusion of all that luxurious bodily life will dissipate, buried under an avalanche of instantaneous condensations of fashions, times, social affiliations, fears, doubts, premonitions, expectations, mistakes---in short, it will be reduced to something repulsively similar to a financial calculation, the amount spent ultimately being able to include a few minutes of sex, somewhere far away. So, I dissemble, un-dissimilate, after reaching the stratosphere of flirtation, and feeling the blood harden beneath me; other girls pass in front of me, flirting with the flirt we flirted with; I look back, see in the distance a confused horizon of women's hair rising and falling---when I return to the initial flirtation, the muse of the night has retreated only two steps, close to the bar now waiting for her next drink with her friend, with whom she speculates laughingly (she still hasn't lost her sense of humor).
Excluir
ExcluirI reconnect with her with a vague, hypnotic, indecipherable tilt of my head. I climb five steps on the staircase that leads to the bar's second floor, from where I see, beyond her and her friend, the entire crowded dance floor. An incalculable number of eyes turn in my direction, and from this psychic shock, those floating charges of amorphous energy that (I knew) were there all along, feasting on people's minds, immediately emerge into my field of vision. It is precisely from this tension that (in Sartre's words about Genet) "mixes abstention and acute desire" that the power of hallucinatory invocation of inorganic beings is born. It is always as if I have, in a single stroke, snatched away all their food for the night, which quickly compels them to cooperate with me.
Basically, insinuating itself into my muse of the night until it turns her into a "mirage," which allows me to slip into her not my desire, but rather my intent. As if I were "denouncing" the girl to these evil spirits, who come to insufflate themselves into her body to form the MUSE OF INSTANTANEOUS MODIFICATIONS, the living, mobile, volatile, floating spectral hallucination, detached from itself, and from space-time in general, on the incorporeal crest of psychomagnetic waves.
ExcluirIt's useless to search for words to try to describe the fiery-spermatic chaos that unfolds during such an "experience" --- an absurd amount of raw energy is produced in an instant and conducted from the figurative to the abstract, making the "second screen" shine, the metaphysical surface that, invested with a new charge of androgynous bio-electricity, will put in contact (in Deleuze's words in The Logic of Sense) "the EXTERIOR AND THE INTERIOR and reunite them on a single side," in a totally incorporeal "second attention." And here, it's important to return to Sartre, in his book on Genet: "for it is not that the phantasm resigns itself to a mere mirage; he simply "loves" her, loves the mirages of a mad, hungry, desperate love --- it is precisely the mirage, and nothing more, that he seeks to extract from the bodily surface, which he has learned, since his origin as a ghost, to consider limited to an infinitely narrow plane of freedom or psychic movement. For him, the mirage is not a consolation, but rather the "avis rara" to be captured. And "there is nothing strange (or sad)" (Deleuze adds, idem) in the obsessive paths through which PHANTOM THOUGHT passes here ---
ResponderExcluirit is the metamorphosis of sex," and also: "The path to the glory of the phantom, the one that Proust indicated---from the question "Shall I marry Albertine?" to the problem of the "Work of art to be done." So, in conclusion, I can say that the proud desire for solitude, in everyday and social life, which is attributed to the phantom, is in it nothing more than a meek facade or disguise, a cultivation of spectral space. In truth, this confusion is somewhat justified because, in successful transmutation, perfect androgyny generally becomes a "proud and brilliant verb," distinct from things and bodies, from states of affairs and their qualities, from their passions and their actions" (Deleuze, idem). THE INFINITIVE, as a VERB (the ‘’greening’’ distinct from both the tree and the green itself), is THE ETERNAL TRUTH, the alchemical isolation of an ALIQUID (from the Stoics --- of noematic and noetic expressible attributes), a ‘’SENSE’’ that flies over and glides above bodies, like an inorganic, or ‘’bat’’ ---
ResponderExcluirit is, in Toltek terms, not merely an inorganic, but rather an "inorganic world" to which the alchemist has access through the second attention or screen, in which the phantom recaptures everything, like a Proust of the nth dimension. It is from this sublimated and symbolic part of the "ineffectable"—the incorporeal or inorganic part that contains the alchemical secret, the same that Apollonius of Tyana considered the "Principle" to which it should rise—that the phantom draws the force (pure volition) to "direct the effectuation, to duplicate it, to conduct its concrete counter-effectuation" (idem). And to effect here is the same as to recapitulate, to integrate the personality, to sublimate, to TRANSMUTE, to project all life (its vital force and its consciousness) onto a metaphysical surface of inscription and registration. Again: The phantom is inseparable from a constant displacement, a constant unfolding—the phantom's extreme mobility; its ability to move between descriptions and thoughts of the world and people; to traverse the entire atmosphere with incredible agility ---, of a DEVELOPMENT in which it carries its own ORIGIN’’ (idem).
ResponderExcluirPost script
ResponderExcluirHere I transcribe an excerpt from my text THE POET, already posted several times, about the Toltek-Lacanian conception of the management of consciousness through energetic practices.
ResponderExcluirIn any case, there is some reason here to continue thinking in terms of probability and "time of flash," in the constellated and archetypal form of "it is known that -" and, of course, if there is one, its limit. Once the incidence of a tonal discontinuity has been confirmed (self-indulgence of the dispersed or interrupted tantric Ramadan), and the consequent examination of the ‘’quality of one’s own times’’ that NEED makes appear in the form of degradation, quickly trying to make the ‘’time of cessation’’ a mere escape of the incomplete subject parked in an unsatisfied technical demand (and without a doubt here I do not contribute in the slightest to the reader trying to transpose to my NOTEBOOK OF ENERGY NAVIGATION, to my TEATRUM ALQUIMICUM, the terms with which Lacan discusses in his Writings the gradations to which the time of analysis is subject.
However, since the “assertion of oneself” is obligatory in the integral management of the energetic egg, including the “constant assertion of oneself” (which is the practice of redistributing energy throughout the body), the “return of the movement of understanding, under which the instance of time that had objectively sustained it (until now) wavered, continues in the subject in the form of reflection, where this instance resurfaces for him under the subjective mode of a DELAYED TIME... and logically presents itself as the (renewed) urgency” of an internal bodily tension or torsion that must always be “ready to begin again” where “delay engenders error” and, consequently, FEAR, the “space of empty waters that refuse to distill” (“JACK, you have no idea how horrible and terrifying this feeling of anguish can be,” From Sebastian Sampas to Jack Keroauc, 20, 21, 23 February 1941, and it is still ‘’Sebastian speaking calmly, coldly and collectively’’).
ExcluirGap ‘’so that there is no’’ (the delay that engenders the error), where, for Lacan also, ‘’the ontological form of anguish seems to emerge, curiously inflected in the equivalent grammatical expression: ‘’for fear that’’ (the delay engenders the error)’’, moreover, a very frequent ‘’negative balance’’ in the practice of the Fourth Way, where often it is life itself or physical integrity that depends on a ‘’rapid alchemical decantation’’ in order to continue, and no longer the almost collegial risks of the beginner still trapped in the specular and traumatic transitivism of the psychological ego for which all competition reflexively lowers its instincts to the level of jealousy and imminent irreparable losses that constantly swim in the nightmare of a undone life, through which every occultist has to go.
ExcluirPost script
ResponderExcluirWe can follow this trail indefinitely through Nietzsche and the Stoics. Something I'll propose in a moment. Coffee time.
Perhaps what I gratuitously called the Toltek-Lacanian conception above is a form of affiliation with Deleuze's TRANSCENDENTAL EMPIRICISM in a direct rejection of IDEALISM, which Deleuze (with Nietzsche) considers the "congenital disease of Platonic philosophy and, with its train of rises and falls, the manic-depressive form of philosophy itself." And it's true, the ascending psyche of Platonism is perhaps a form of "manic esotericism" linked to the work with IDEAS. Nietzsche, in turn, according to Deleuze, "invents his own method: we must not be content with either biography or bibliography. WE MUST REACH A SECRET POINT WHERE THE SAME THING IS AN ANECDOTE OF LIFE AND AN APHORISM OF THOUGHT."
And we could complete it with a final, scratched-out draft from Bataille in THE GUILTY:
Excluir"The relationship between communal knowledge and discursive knowledge is no more than a stage; then you have to tear everything down and say: I only brought them there because of inherited misery."
"It's like the meaning that, on one side, attributes itself to states of life and, on the other, insists on the propositions of thought. There are dimensions, times and places, glacial or torrid zones, never moderate, all the exotic geography that characterizes a WAY OF THINKING, and also a STYLE OF LIFESTYLE."
"It is possible that Diogenes Laërtius, in his best pages, had a premonition of such a method: to find vital aphorisms that are also anecdotes of thought."
LOGIC OF SENSE, Deleuze (idem)
Excluir"The pre-Socratics buried thought in caves, life in the depths. They probed water and fire" (through intensifications of consciousness). They made philosophy with hammer blows. The embedded depths seem to Nietzsche to be the true orientation of philosophy, the PRE-SOCRATIC INITIATIC SNAP to be RETURNED TO IN A PHILOSOPHY OF THE FUTURE, with all the forces of a life that is also a thought or of a language that is also a body."
Excluir"In the beginning, schizophrenia: pre-Socratism is the properly philosophical schizophrenia, the absolute depth dug into bodies and thought, which makes Holderlin, before Nietzsche, address the pre-Socratics, in particular Empedocles. In the famous Empedocletian alternation, in the complementarity of hate and love, we find on the one hand the BODY OF HATE, THE STRAWBER BODY, and, in pieces, on the other hand, THE GLORIOUS AND ORGAN-LESS BODY......................................in the same way, Dionysus shows us two faces, his open and lacerated body, his impassive and organless head, a dismembered Dionysus, but also an impenetrable Dionysus."
Nietzsche's encounter with the depth of the pre-Socratics was only achieved through what Deleuze calls Nietzsche's "conquest of surfaces": "But Nietzsche does not remain on the surface; this seems to him rather to be what must be judged from the renewed perspective of the eye of the depths. Nietzsche has little interest in what happened after Plato, considering it to be pure decadence. However, here we perceive the RISING of a third race of philosophers (in accordance with the same method), and it is to THEM that Nietzsche's words particularly apply: as superficial as they were, these Greeks were profound!"
Excluir"These third Greeks, however, are not completely Greek. With the Megarians, the Cynics, and the Stoics begins a new type of philosopher and a new type of anecdote. AND A CURIOUS SYSTEM OF PROVOCATIONS. The Stoic anecdotes are no longer Platonic or pre-Socratic.
Deleuze, idem