The careful reading of several volumes in sequence by Mário Ferreira dos Santos impacted me so strongly that I had the impulse to go through all my notes looking for nonsense. However, this is an impulse I cannot allow. To revise my past is to destroy what I was, to erase the traces of a possible evolution. Written lines are the record in time of lasting impressions or not: but they are, nevertheless, the evidence of the path traveled. To suppress what I was is to distort what I am: a justifiable action, not in the minds of those obsessed with perfect coherence, but in the minds of impostors and scoundrels.
Tag: philosophy
Timeless Themes
Particularly, I restrict my art to themes that I consider to be timeless. This, in other words, means that I flatly refuse a detailed analysis of the values of this time, because I do not want to infest my literature with such a despicable and despicable moral. One will do well in the future if one never pays attention to the sociological-moral currents that this century has spawned, which are nothing but shamefully infamous ideologies, stupid lapses in the history of human thought.
The Nobility of Speculative Philosophy
It was Mário Ferreira dos Santos, and no other, who fully showed me the nobility of speculative philosophy, not because until then I had only come into contact with playful and vain writers, but because in him, more than in others, I saw the real need for the speculative exercise. A need arising from vital questions that found in this method the only possibility of a safe solution. The meticulousness, the stretching out and scrutiny come out not as a pretentious exhibition, but as a methodical demand inherent to the seriousness of the questions. As in Thomas Aquinas, digressions, numerous demonstrations: but everything, always, aiming at clarity, aiming at precise exposition. Great mind!
Unpalatable Reasoning
I feel perfectly capable of imagining impressive effects coming from Buddhist Tantric practices, which are nothing but a process of mental re-education. But neither Buddhism nor any other Eastern school can convince me of the nonsense of denying reality, no matter how wonderful effects they promise by doing so. I understand the dangers of valuing on error, I understand, above all, the need to break with earthly ties; but my mind violently rejects considering myself a nothing in essence, wrapped in a nothingness devoid of any foundation: zeros and more zeros, and never anything. No! There are illusions, and I can distinguish them because there is also something non-illusory. There is the mind and the products of the mind, just as there is an external reality that differs from them. I am sorry, I am sorry, but I cannot accept as identical phenomena an imaginary punch in the face and a real punch in the face—and I can, what a novelty!, prove what I say.