I have come to realize the gravity of our subjectivity and the confines of our reality by our perceptions within every ‘conscious’ encounter, literally. I could not stress more that, relatively, mind surpasses body on some virtual evolutionary scale; however, I could not but doubt what the mind muses about. To elaborate, claiming that I am mind and not body is erroneous for the mere fact that my mind (essence) cannot be without my body (its existence). What I have failed to comprehend in my mindful recollects, is the meaning that men of language set to the word existence, and how it is erroneous to attribute essence to existence in absolute, rather than existence to itself, hence the relativity of existence. I cannot say my mind exists, but I can say that my mind exists within my body, and my body exists upon a rocky planet that harbors life, and then the chain of existence and sub-existence goes on and on until uncertainty is met; until we are left meditating over oceans of ceaseless debates that have emerged only from human fallibility and a struggle to define, describe, and attribute the essence of anything to the existence of everything, in absolute. Therefore realizing the ability to doubt, and realizing the absurdity that envelopes, I could not but submerge reality in skepticism, a false-hearted arena that bogs the mind and sets forth ‘logical’ solutions that are not satisfactory to being a subject. When man falls in skepticism, he is indulged in a self-fight activity in that the subject can never become objective, and that the absolute is merely an idea or conception of what man wishes to become: beautiful, objective, immortal, free, perfect, absolute, God. These are notions that are thought of and brought up in man’s ascetics on an almost daily basis, inasmuch as man lives by them, and cannot reject them; because to doubt radically and question the self’s purpose in a purposeless universe, is fatal for man who weeps, hurts, dies and loves.
Then, to doubt the mind that doubts, to push reason to the furthest stretch, is a scheme of thinking that is not on the basis of questioning the creator of the universe, but questioning creation and its purpose, the validity of existence itself, and the validity of the absolute, way before the validity of God and man’s fate.
To spare the intellectual anguish, Descartes’s demonstration of radical doubt would suffice; but what I am after is not the endless doubt, for the outcome is futile if one’s will is far from self-destruction, rather hooked on self-understanding and preservation. I am rather after the fact that even Descartes, the radical skeptic, came to halt at a conclusion that is, “I think therefore I am”, which is no less subject to doubt than the idea of God itself, for even that could be doubted furthermore, but it is far beyond human actuality to be radically skeptic of anything “absolute”. It is indeed necessary for survival of self and sanity to halt at a point of, not acceptance, but admittance of our folly in the search of the absolute, the admittance of our fate, the only truth man can know; man weeps, man loves, and man dies.
For even radical doubt of everything and the absolute is an exertion to grasp what man wishes to become; however, to admit human actuality is the first step to become what we want to become inasmuch as to admit that man is not free, is the first step to freedom, and to admit that man does not know truth is more truthful than any notion man lives by. I once came across a statement I truly appreciated, it is that man falls victim to his own grammar in that the verb (the act) is to be preceded by a subject (the actor), and the error lies in attributing specific acts that man cannot himself commit, to greater actors, such as, God (absolute).
Correspondingly, in our efforts to immortalize, to become absolute: we write, we philosophize, we paint; we produce.
Beauty is thus attributed to the limit of man’s production and effort; what we find beautiful is what we cannot produce and cannot grasp with our five senses, and why we find it beautiful is the inability to be as beautiful, or to be artisans of such “perfection”, and here is where the concept of the absolute perfection arises from: when nothing more aesthetic can be actualized. The universe is perfect, it is the “grand design”, for as long as it is the only universe we know of, it is the only design, it cannot but be perfect and the same can be said of all that man claims to be perfect. However, as long as the validity of existence itself lingers as is, it is erroneous to claim perfection upon anything; it is rather a conceptualization of a possible better, so then absolutely nothing is perfect, rather what is perfect is only relatively perfect. By the same token, nothing is absolute; rather what is absolute is relatively absolute, only for he who ponders upon the absolute. Just as God exists for he who believes in “him”, and humbly does not for he who does not believe in him.
The subject’s emergence is thus the realization that in the dominion of the absolute, man is not. It is the act of stepping out of the illusion of man’s purity, in the admittance that man is not pure, he is one step closer to purity, in that he weeps, loves, and dies.