Category: philosophy

The weight of Gold

I am stuck inside a mud pit with


A pocket full of gold.


This story of my wayward step


Is one that should be told.





One day while walking on the edge


I thought that I would try,


To soil my sole, to take a step


and yet keep clean and dry





And ‘lo perhaps if I should fall


Or something worse unfold


The remedy was right with me


My pocket full of gold.





I walked out deep, I felt no fear,


As you can clearly see


The safety net, that you can get


With gold so plentily





But now I stand up to my knees


And sinking very fast


There’s something that I could not see


But late, at last, I grasp





And with a frown, my head goes down


Below the mirky foam


The weight to bear of gold so fair


Has crushed me like a stone.





© 2007 Jediah Logiodice



– Sometimes the more gold you have in your pockets, the deeper you get stuck in the ruts of life –

What is doublethink, crimstop, crimetink and blackwhite?

In a recent post – I made some comments of how people even in today’s day and age practice doublethink, crimestop, crimethink and blackwhite.


These are terms that come from George Orwell’s 1984 – and I felt a responsibility to define them for you, if you do not know them.


Winston Smith explains doublethink – which is the foundation of the beliefs of “The Party” in the book 1984 – it’s scary to realize how many people’s minds work this way today.


doublethink:


“To know and not to know, to be conscious of complete truthfulness while telling carefully constructed lies, to hold simultaneously two opinions which cancelled out, knowing them to be contradictory and believing in both of them, to use logic against logic, to repudiate morality while laying claim to it, to believe that democracy was impossible and that the Party was the guardian of democracy, to forget whatever it was necessary to forget, then to draw it back into memory again at the moment when it was needed, and then promptly to forget it again: and above all, to apply the same process to the process itself. That was the ultimate subtlety: consciously to induce unconsciousness, and then, once again, to become unconscious of the act of hypnosis you had just performed. Even to understand the word ‘doublethink’ involved the use of doublethink.’


crimethink:


All crimes begin with a thought. So, if you control thought, you can control crime. “Thoughtcrime is death. Thoughtcrime does not entail death, Thoughtcrime is death…. The essential crime that contains all others in itself.”


crimestop:


“The faculty of stopping short, as though by instinct, at the threshold of any dangerous thought. It includes the power of not grasping analogies, of failing to perceive logical errors, of misunderstanding the simplest arguments if they are inimical to Ingsoc, and of being bored or repelled by any train of thought which is capable of leading in a heretical direction. In short….protective stupidity.”


(Ingsoc stands for English Socialism – which is the ideal of the Party).


blackwhite:


The willingness to accept the ‘truth’ you are taught, no matter how absurd it is.


blackwhite is “…loyal willingness to say black is white when party discipline demands this. It also means the ability to believe that black is white, and more, to know black is white, and forget that one has ever believed the contrary


Emmanuel Goldsteim:


EG is the enemy of the party – he is the scapegoat, the party uses Emmanuel Goldstein to foster anger, and hatred, to create war (for war is peace according to Ingsoc). Through this fanaticism that they stir up, they control the thoughts of the party members, they teach them, through the fear and hate of Goldstein to pratice crimestop, crimethink, blackwhite and above all doublethink.

For those that want to know…

There are some people in life that will stop at nothing to have things their own way. They’ll do anything, say anything, teach anything, and believe anything.


There are some people in life, that think they belong to the thought police. They are adept invokers of the cultish practices of doublethink, crimestop, crimethink, and blackwhite.


There are some people in life, that believe things, things they know or are afraid that can’t be supported by facts or logic; they hold onto them so tightly, so religiously (if you will), that if you approach them and ask them to reconsider, they begin to act like cornered dogs. They bite, they nip, they growl, they bark. Foaming at the mouth, they become possessed. Will they reason with you? No! Will they talk with you? No! They shut you out, they shut you up, they try to discredit you, they use whatever is within their power to try and control you (or those around you).


There are some people that work in the shadows, they hide behind the trees, they hide behind the rocks, they slink back, and when you pass by, and they pounce and stab. Or, there are even those, who are worse. They will use propaganda, they will regurgitate untruths, they will stick them to your back, they will pass them around to your friends, they make sure to conceal the truth, they twist mind’s, they twist themselves, they are contortionists, or better yet, extortionists.


There are some people that want you to believe something so strongly, that they force it down your throat. They jam it, they cram it. They are in such a frenzied state of mind that they don’t even hear that you are choking; don’t even see that you are turning blue. They don’t even feel the anger, the hate, and the resentment that is welling up inside of you.


There are some people that won’t talk to your face, only to your back, and only if you can’t hear them. They claim that you are a troublemaker, and a problem causer, and they do this by running around and spreading trouble and problems that they focus on you.


I am none of these things; I will tell you to your face, I will try to tell it as it is, as I see it. I will promote thought and thinking, reasoning and logic. I won’t hide in the shadows – I will speak in public, I have nothing to hide. I provide a meal, but I won’t force you to eat. I provide an ear, but I won’t force you to talk. I provide friendship; use it as and if you will.


And above all, for those who are of the Spy’s and the Thought Police themselves – I am guilty of thought-crime, my name is Emmanuel Goldstein.

The days of past – Nostalgic

We went to the Augusta Museum on Friday. All I can say is wow! Every time I go there, I am just overwhelmed with nostalgic.


Now, let me start by saying that in reality, I am very glad that we have moved so far into the age we are in (I mean, I love technology), but I can’t help but being sad.


I am reminded of the ‘days gone by’, right before me; days that I hardly remember, days my children will never see. An age where both men and women had special skills, working with their hands, bringing forth magnificent works of art, bringing into the economy things that were needed for everyday life, and a few things that even brought pleasure.


I looked over little shops in the corner of a wall setup to mimic where people would heat and bend iron making so many wonderful things – wow, i bet it was hard, back breaking labor – but when you were done, you could admire what you had done, see it, feel it.


I saw wood working shops, where people built desks, cabinets, I saw sewing shops, I saw shoe maker shops.


My head was filled with information on these businesses as they started in Maine, as some grew to the point of having thousands of workers, and then as they replaced these workers with machinery (or in some cases, low-paid Mexican workers from another country).


Even the woolen mill was sad. I had a job in a woolen mill about 15 or so years ago – I remember the sights, the sounds, the smells, the feeling of accomplishment working with your hands. They’re all gone. Distant past – in a museum. My children will never experience the excitement; my children will never experience the aura.


What happened to the days of “White Christmas”, the feeling of home and family?


And while I’m thinking about it, what happened to childhood.


It makes me sad, and I’m getting old, I guess.

Why do they call us consumers?

My professor asked me a question today, he said:


I study a lot about metaphors and “consuming” and “consumer” as we use these terms today especially interest me. But what do you think of this: We don’t “consume” computers or cars, we “use” them. But when computer and car companies think of their customers, they speak of them as “consumers.”



Here was my response…


What they are trying to sell us, is not so much a product, but an idea. We consume their rhetoric, their ideals, and their sales pitches. Day in and day out, we are hypnotized to think we need products to be fulfilled, to be independent, or to be satisfied.

I think in this way – we are all consumers.

Th house of mourning


(Ecc 7:2) It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart.


Perhaps the teacher, son of David was a universalist, or a annihilationist, because it is not always better to go to a house of mourning….


I am on my way to a friends funeral in just a short while – as far as I know, he never accepted Christ, I invited them to Church a few times, but they never came. He was a very compassionate, friendly and caring person. Sure, he had his flaws, as we all do.


It’s moments like now that bring you back to earth; and make you want to question.


If only we could see things from begining to end.



-Gene

Do you surrender all?

In my Humanities course I was asked to comment on this story.



“A man went on a walk one day along the edge of a cliff, as he often did. This day, however, a strong wind came and blew him over the edge. Before falling to his death, he managed to grab a shrub. There he dangled, too weak to climb back up; his fate certain. Then he spied a beatiful flower nearby. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. The image of this flower seized him. Its brilliant blossom, its shape and size, its colors, its scent, its intricate design; for the few moments he had left, he caught a vision of absolute beauty. His grasp weakened, and he fell to his death.”



Here are my comments:



“It is said that in death, all things become clear.” – (Dan Brown, Digital Fortress)

It is unfair that I can’t comment on Tolstoy yet (or can I). 🙂

For now, I’ll stick with Dan Brown’s illustration. In our lives we spend so much time trying to get to a target destination that we often forget to enjoy the scenery on the way. When facing our ultimate demise, when facing the final rung on the ladder (so to speak), when, as humans, we are forced to come to the realization that our time on this earth is indefinite, when we come face to face with that realization, there is inevitably the awakening of the inner soul. The point where one begins to look around and realize what is most important. While not everyone can, or will undergo this during their lifetime (or even at the point of death), it is at the point of this surrender that all things become clear, and life has been put into perspective.

In reading this story, I have to wonder, as often as this young man had walked on this cliff, had he ever stopped to take the time to enjoy the breeze, the smells, the sounds, and the loftiness of the heights below him? How often do you think he passed that flower, just within view (or perhaps even reach), and yet, he had never seen its likes.

Studying the humanities gives me the opportunity to learn how to appreciate even the most simple and wonderful things about the world around me. Over the years, I have been a work-a-holic, driven and mad trying to control my own destiny, and make of the world, what I want it to be. Through this study, I hope to learn to better live my life, in what Bob Jacks in his book “Divine Appointments” calls “relaxed anticipation”. I hope to find more direction within myself to, as the colloquial statement goes: Learn to stop and smell the roses. I desire to come to the point of surrender, before I’m holding onto the edge of a cliff, waiting to take the plunge into the unknown.

Is it well?

This is a true story – I have copied it from http://chi.gospelcom.net/GLIMPSEF/Glimpses/glmps064.shtml.


May the Lord always give me the comfort to say “It is well with my Soul”, no matter the circumstance…



In the 1870s Horatio Spafford was a successful Chicago lawyer and a close friend of evangelist Dwight L. Moody. Spafford had invested heavily in real estate, but the Chicago fire of 1871 wiped out his holdings. His son had died shortly before the disaster.


Spafford and his family desperately needed a rest so in 1873 he planned a trip to Europe with his wife and four daughters. While in Great Britain he also hoped to help Moody and Sankey with their evangelistic tour. Last minute business caused Spafford to delay his departure, but he sent his wife and four daughters on the S. S. Ville Du Havre as scheduled, promising to follow in a few days. On November 22 the ship was struck by the English ship Lochearn, and it sank in twelve minutes. Several days later the survivors landed at Cardiff, Wales, and Mrs. Spafford cabled her husband the brief message, “Saved alone.”


When Horatio Spafford made the ocean crossing to meet his grieving wife, he sailed near the place where his four daughters had sunk to the ocean depths. There, in the midst of his sorrow, he wrote these unforgettable words that have brought solace to so many in grief:




When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll,
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.


Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blessed assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.