There are those among my friends who hold, some with a sense of envy, some with utter disdain, that I have lived my life unfettered by scientific logic, a condition that both camps deem irrational, definitive of madness. I think it an unwarranted charge. True, I do not understand the infinitesimal calculus. I am equally ignorant of quantum mechanics. Such ignorance is another of the many blessings granted me. But the unconscious has a logic of its own and grounds its elaborate reasoning thereupon. I am Who (I) Am. This is the definition of self that places the ego properly in relation to the infinite, defines the scope of one's freedom, and permits the cognition of one's own soul. Contest my premises if you will but know that my syllogisms are sound.
And of that self, that soul (a pilgrim soul in a world of tourists) and its reasonings, what to say, what task ascribe to it, what question pose it? This perhaps at first: how best to dispute the primacy of the fact as sole constituent of the real world, of Reality?
It is an error to mistake ignorance for humility or humility for ignorance...and a greater error still to mistake either for fear.
How then do I understand the Christ? As the sum of all the innate, unrealizable aspirations of our common consciousness, the coda to all our immemorial dreams.
Memory is an impediment to love (and therefore love consumes all memory).
I had thought of myself most often as the central character in the fiction of my life, but there are times, more so as I age, when I am beset by the unhappy intuition that perhaps I am no more than a bit player in that particular drama, not Hamlet but Polonius.
Does it mean anything to speak of the scope of one's freedom, or is it the case that, genuinely understood, freedom is without scope, is absolute?
Politics is the communal expression of the mechanics of human will, be it free or bound, the aggregate of all the individual affirmations and denials in a given collective.
The Judgment is a come-as-you-are affair. You go clothed in all your virtues, all your sins (which is probably why your grandmother made such a point of insisting on the importance of always wearing clean underwear).