Epistemologie Paper: Objectie tegen de Cartesiaanse Demon

Epistemologie Paper 

Stelling:  ''Het is niet noodzakelijk om een onderscheid te maken tussen de noumenale en de fenomenale wereld.'' 

·         Objectie:  

Het onderscheid tussen de fenomenale en noumenale wereld is met een goede reden gemaakt. In de antieke traditie was het verschil noodzakelijk om de kennisvoorwaardes te formuleren voor ons kenvermogen. De reikwijdte van ons kennen werd gelimiteerd tot de zogeheten ''fenomenale'' wereld. Dit was de wereld zoals die zich aan ons presenteerde, wanneer men gebruik maakte van diens zintuigen. De noumenale wereld is datgene wat in de Platoonse traditie als de ware werkelijkheid gepostuleerd werd. Dit was de werkelijkheid die onafhankelijk van de zintuigen bestond. De vraag die nu noodzakelijk gevraagd moet worden is deze: 

''Hoe kan men zeker zijn dat dit onderscheid ook redelijkerwijs gemaakt mag worden?'' 

Het onderscheid werd in de antieke traditie door Plato gemaakt. Het feit dat men in het particuliere het vermogen had om het abstractere en daarbij het volmaaktere te kennen, gaf genoeg steun om aan te nemen dat het bestaan van het abstracte ook bestaansrecht had die men kon kennen, omdat hij reeds gekend was. In de anamnesis (herinnering) kreeg het subject een Aha-Erlebnis, omdat er overeenstemming kwam tussen dat wat op particuliere wijze werd waargenomen en een bepaalde eidos (Idee of Vorm) dat in het subject besloten zat. Het was dus epistemisch noodzakelijk om te spreken van twee werkelijkheden om een weg te kunnen vormen naar het ware kennen.  

Het dubium over de zintuigen is dus geplaats. De ware werkelijkheid is tot op een bepaalde hoogte via de zintuigen kenbaar, maar voor echte kennis behoort men in contemplatie te gaan naar de begrippen die het fenomenale kenbaar maken. De vraag is wederom, hoe kan je opgesloten in je eigen ik, met enkel de zintuigen tot je beschikking, überhaupt tot zekere kennis komen over de noumenale wereld? Plato zou antwoorden dat men behoort na te denken met datgene dat even los staat van de materie als de transcendente begrippen, namelijk de rede.  

Echter, er zit een probleem in Plato’s Ideeënleer, die van te veel axioma's uitgaat, die men niet kan rechtvaardigen. Bijvoorbeeld, hoe neemt het particuliere deel aan het abstracte? Als de Ideeën intern in ons kennen besloten liggen, dan is er niet meer sprake van externe inwerking en is daarbij de voorwaarde voor een externe, abstracte werkelijkheid geëlimineerd. Aristoteles heeft de problemen verder uitgewerkt en opgelost door het kenvermogen te beperken tot datgene wat Plato ''de vergankelijke werkelijkheid'' zou noemen.  

De zoektocht naar een objectie schrijdt voort richting René Descartes. Aristoteles heeft veel problemen van de metafysica en epistemologie opgelost door het kenvermogen te verschuiven naar de materiële wereld en het daartoe te beperken. Echter, deze verandering van metafysisch wereldbeeld komt met een prijs. De axioma, die per definitie de grootste twijfel teweeg brengt, is juist die aanname, die überhaupt Aristoteles' kenwereld mogelijk maakt: de verheerlijking van de zintuigen.  

Descartes gaat als rationalist tegen dit empirisme in. Hij contempleert en komt tot een radicale conclusie, die de epistemologie deed veranderen. Volgens hem was het initieel onmogelijk zeker te zijn over wat dan ook. De meditaties brachten twijfel en vragen teweeg. Kan het zo zijn dat we dromen? Of wellicht bedrogen worden door een demon, die ons de werkelijkheid als rechtvaardig, maar onwaar doet toeschijnen? De enige toegang tot de werkelijkheid, die we hebben zijn de zintuigen. Er is immers niks wat ons in staat stelt om zeker te zijn dat ook die zintuigen niet ons bedriegen. Het is daarom meer dan noodzakelijk dat er een onderscheid wordt gemaakt tussen de noumenale en fenomenale wereld om te kunnen twijfelen. Doen we dat niet, dan laten we de optie open dat we wellicht wel tot kennis kunnen komen die te rechtvaardigen is, maar die buiten ons kenvermogen, volledig mis is. 

·          Antwoord:

De filosoof die ik moet aanhalen bij de synthese tussen het enerzijds rationele probleem van ons kenvermogen, gepostuleerd door Descartes en anderzijds de empiristische, zoals Aristoteles, is Immanuel Kant. De versmelting manifesteert zich in het idee dat twee zaken noodzakelijk zijn om van kennis te kunnen spreken, namelijk het verstand en de waarneming. Beide zijn even noodzakelijk om kennis überhaupt mogelijk te kunnen maken. In het verstand zit structuren, die voorwaardea vormen om de a posteriori kennis mogelijk te maken. Ruimte en tijd zijn bijvoorbeeld nodig voor iets om kenbaar te zijn aan het verstand. Kant refereert naar dergelijke voorwaardes voor kennis als de categorieën. De categorieën kenmerken zich verder hierin dat ze eigenschappen zijn van het verstand en niet van de noumenale wereld. De categorieën vormen de reikwijdte van ons kenvermogen; ze maken het mogelijk, dat we premièrement in staat zijn van kennis te spreken. Echter, juiste deze zelfde categorieën vormen op ambigue wijze tegelijkertijd de grens van ons kenvermogen. Alles wat buiten de categorieën valt kan niet gekend worden door het verstand. Op deze wijze is het verstand begrensd en beperkt tot de fenomenale aanblikken van de werkelijkheid. 

Enfin, het is cruciaal om in te zien dat kennis enkel bestaat in overeenstemming, niet als een ontologische waarheidsbegrip.

Of zoals hijzelf mooi formuleert in Kritik der reinen Vernunft:

Begriffe ohne Anschauung sind leer, Anschauung ohne Begriffe ist blind

We hebben dus aangenomen van Kant dat kennis beperkt is tot de overeenstemming van de werkelijkheid met het verstand en dat op deze wijze alles wat buiten het verstand valt, wat hij het Ding an Sich noemt, noodzakelijkerwijs niet gekend kan worden.

Is het nu mogelijk om een objectie te geven aan het dubium van Descartes? Zeker.

Kant heeft zekerheid weten te geven aan de zintuigen, terwijl hij tegelijkertijd de twijfel van Descartes meebrengt op elegante wijze.

Zeker, we kunnen nooit het Ding an Sich kennen, de optie is open dat we bedrogen worden. Het kan dat buiten het kenvermogen van het verstand en de werkelijkheid, de noumenale wereld een leugen is.

Echter, wat Kant wel duidelijk maakt is dat we voor zover het kenvermogen ons toelaat, we een bepaalde mate van kennis kunnen vergaren, namelijk die binnen de categorieën van het verstand vallen.

Hierdoor borrelt bij mij dan de vraag op, waarom eigenlijk het onderscheid tussen twee werkelijkheden maken? Anders dan Plato, is de scheiding van de werkelijkheden niet eentje die metafysisch bestaansrecht hebben. Kant en Descartes postuleren de mogelijkheid van een noumenale wereld enkel als concept om de reikwijdte van het kennen te kunnen begrijpen, niet als transcendente volmaakte werkelijkheid.

En wanneer dus Kant de hypothese heeft gesteld van de fenomenale wereld en de noumenale wereld en hij heeft daarbij het kennen beperkt tot de fenomenale wereld, enkel ervan uitgaand dat de noumenale bestaat uit allerlei Dingen an Sich, dan is de noumenale wereld enkel ondersteund door de redenering die uitgaat van de noodzaak van een dergelijke wereld, omdat er anders niks is wat ons fenomenaal kan toeschijnen. Als dat de reden is dat het onderscheid gemaakt moet worden tussen een conceptuele noumenale wereld en een tastbare en bovenal epistemisch kenbare ‘fenomenale’ wereld, dan lijkt het me meer dan rationeel om het kennen te beperken juist tot die fenomenale wereld, omdat de notie van een noumenale wereld enkel tot onnodige redundantie leidt. Niet omdat het alleen praktisch is, maar omdat het categoriale kenvermogen dat van ons dwingt. 

The State II

Subiectum:
The greatest paradox known to man is the expectations life has of us. This in itself too is a paradox. Since life essentially has no meaning. What do I mean by that and what does it have to with political and social behaviour? Those are questions for later, they’re more specific and too detailed. Right now I just wanted to highlight the area needed for me to bring another issue forward. The Idea I want to discuss is an Idea that is related to all of us, therefore it has existence in that which is most common to all of us: life. I use the word Idea in the Platonic sense to convey to you that what I want to discuss is nothing made out of matter, although it does require matter to gain existence. The Idea I want to convey in that sense is something that solely exists inside our heads, but by which we are confronted on a daily bases, hence giving it not a materialistic existence, but an abstract.  The Idea I want to introduce is one that consists out of contradictions and paradoxes. It is something that has to be examined carefully and presented delicately.  The worst thing about it, is that even the area in which it exists, namely life itself, is a huge paradox. Therefore it is utterly necessary to be patient with the following Idea. It is difficult to explain, because explaining it equals to wanting to explain the idea of a contradiction. I do however think it is profoundly necessary for us to finally accept this phenomenon and see it for what it is and its influence on our daily lives, but most importantly, in our contemplative actions.  What I want to discuss is not really a subject honestly, since the use of that terminology indicates something concrete, something that has been limited to some particular essence. The concept I want to bring forward is more complex, it is a paradox, but it exists. In one way pushing us forward, in another keeping us away from progress: the ambiguity of life.  

Life: 
The greatest paradox known to man is life. What I mean by that I will explain in a bit, but first let us look at the opposite of paradoxes, logical consequences. What I find interesting in logics is that we have the principle of tertium non datur.  A Latin term that has a very simple meaning: a proposition is either true or false. This simply means that in one and the same sentence, one can’t say anything that contridicts itself and therefore eliminates the credibility of his belief in a certain proposition. So literally translated from Latin it means, the third is not given. Quite a helpful principle I might add. Evidently, it is either true or false that water is wet. Likewise it is either true or false whether the rose is red or not. And so on and so on. Denying such examples would be absurd too.  Could you imagine a world in which such statements would be redeemed as both true and false? In such a hypothetical sceneries the basics of logics would have fallen apart in so far that no human being could ever have access to any form of knowledge. Therefore it is safe for me to conclude that it is reasonable to think certain ideas about the world are either true or false and there is nothing in between that can validate it.
What fascinates me however is that there are certain things in life that however can not be redeemed as true or false. These are concepts that one simply takes as given. The standpoint towards them is not based on any logical research or discovery of principles. These are simply standpoints people take when they do politics. What I have discovered in the social behaviour of people, is that they have integrated this logicphilia towards those concepts in such a way that it does not apply to them, but are still reinforced. Concepts that require nuances and not the harsh discrimination given by the principles of logic, are filtered by the black and white spectrum of right and wrong.
The statement I’ve given in both introductions, is one that will be leading throughout all my contemplations. Is it possible and even justified for man to use discrimination in a life of paradoxes and ambiguity? These thoughts have not risen over night, I must say honestly. These are specks of thoughts that have been compiled into one big ball of thoughts that I decided to present. What is the reason that we keep falling back into repeat, when there should be so called progress? I’ve been trying to answer this question by looking at a specific reason. A sort of subject that I can pinpoint as the prima causa omnis. Everytime I had thought I had found an answer, whether it be in socialism, nihilism, virtue ethics or aristocracy.  Whether it be in tolerance towards others or indifference, hate or frustration, it would always lead to the same two conclusions that I had not anticipated, but badly needed. 
Firstly, life exists in paradoxes and out of ambiguity. Kierkegaard phrased it best: 

“It is quite true what philosophy says; that life must be understood backwards. But then one forgets the other principle: that it must be lived forwards.”

Due to the ambiguity of life, there are lots of things we can be uncertain of. There are lots of choices of which we can not completely know the consequences of. Ambiguity presents itself in many forms, that we experience in our daily lives. The one mentioned above by Kierkegaard is solely the first ambiguity presented to us. Besides that we have the phenomenon of conformity versus individuality, wanting to define yourself personally, but also not being stared at for being too different, the thin line between well intended critique and unjustified offense, versus unjustified critique and justified offense. We forming ideals or ideals forming us. We choosing our future or being shaped into the future. Free will or free choice. 

The ambiguity of life pierces through all these subjects, because of only one simply reason: every single one of those subjects carries an essence of truth, even if it is most minimal. And by truth, I do not mean in the same sense as when we call a proposition true or false, but in the sense that it all carries the same goal that needs to be idealised. Namely, the end of the ambiguity. This being my second conclusion. How I came these conclusions, will be discussed in the next part.  

The State I: Introduction

I've caught myself thinking these days as I was walking from work to home about certain things that have been bothering me these days. These little things that have annoyed me, have all bundled up into a collective annoyance and light hatred against humanity.
What an odd claim, isn't it? To say to you hate humanity at the pathetic age of 19.
'What humanity?' one might ask. 'The three people around you? That's your representation of humanity? Oh, please. What can you know of life, choice and humanity?'
Quite a common reaction one could say, one I often even get honestly. Frankly I can't blame them and I can see where they are coming from.
Still my instant reaction out of pride would be: 'Everything! I'm dedicating my life to reading, I spend my days in reflection, I try to understand, to know, to feel and to transcendente my current existence. Logically this would mean that my opinion is of more worth, right? Since I am making the sacrifice of trying to think in nuances, with the aim to understand, not to convince. It is only logical to say that relative to all this black and white thinking, my thoughts are worth listening to. I have the answers. I know what to do. My ideals will guide us there. It's just that you don't want to listen, goddammit!'
As you see, pride plays a big role inside of me. No matter how much I twist or turn it, I can't keep myself from burning inside when I catch someone in disagreement, after I've given an opinion or a statement that I have put so much effort into.
How dares that person not see the billiance and nuances? How dares he or she still vastly want to swim inside a milky, muddy, turbid lake, when there is me, who can give them a clear and sparkly ocean?
Pride and hybris can be such a cockblock to any conversation. It causes me to loose my rationality, I grow furious, I explode in anger, I damn the humans for not wanting to understand. To say it another way, how dare they not understand me? Me and my thoughts, who just want to preserve those values, that guarantee the integrity and dignity of every single human life. Isn't it good enough that I want the best for them?
Oddly enough, pride is also something I've worked hard on gaining and keeping. On a positive note for example, I am happy I am so proud. It makes me want to transcendente whoever I am at the moment, even if that means taking distance from a statement I hold onto dearly for the sake of gaining a better understanding of the world.
I've associated pride with those thinkers who had ideals and were not afraid of persuading them. They have made their own ideals into gods they worship, ideals that I am so proud of having. Ideals unfortunately that consist out of paradoxes.

Right now there is no denying that there is a clash going on in the world in terms of morality. Terms as freedom, free will, offense and justice have gotten a new understanding to them. To me it seems that these terms mostly present themselves into contradictions. Either side or interpretation of these terms clashes with the other side,  therefore making the existence überhaupt impossible.
For example, is it possible to become so free, that we become unfree? Is this a complete wrong actualisation of the Camus' quote in which he asked us to become so free that our freedom becomes an act of rebellion? Why does it feel, that every stranger I meet and see suffocates me more than ever? Is the age? Is it my character or is it our new understanding of freedom?
I have to be clear that I am a sceptical when it comes to giving generalising statements regarding a certain trend. There are always exceptions, let that be clear. I solely speak of those that fall inside the category I speak of. 
I can say that the general crowd is suffocating me, that I am afraid of speaking my mind, because I know that the complete freedom, causes some form of restriction. It is not possible to be completely free, in the sense that the existentialists meant. Freedom, in the sense that we are damned to freedom and have to create our life. The so called "My freedom begins, where yours ends"-mentality.
Is time changing and have we become so free, that we are suffocating each other? What if we need less freedom in one sense, to enlarge the freedom elsewhere?
Namely the freedom to make mistakes. It seems that our new interpretation of freedom has caused us to become more strict when it comes to respecting each and every individual. Democracy is at its peak, everyone is a part of the system. It has been celebrated enough, I am the first to rise, when it comes to applauding democracy. But isnt it also time to highlight the ambiguity? The contradictions that exist when we make certain ideals into absolutes? This can lead to serious problem, especially when the people leading the world at the moment are not leading the will of the crowd in accordance to the rationality of the politician, but that the politicians themselves are falling into peacock behaviour.
There is an illusion that saying whatever you like is performed by all. However, only in accordance to what most want. Being politically correct, but insofar as it is redeemed okay by those leading the media.
Neo-conservatism with other words, but dipped in a sauce of liberty.
Isn't that a paradox? This has made me scared of writing. I fear to make mistakes out of scare of offending someone. This so called new notion of freedom, has made me want to shut my mouth close. Never saying anything, because the term "offense" in relation to "freedom" has lost so much meaning, that I don't dare to say what I want.
I am not going to lie, I feel very detached from the world.

However, I have often seen myself as a reasonable person. Since I believe I am in a minority, I have more than enough reason to reconsider everything I said. Perhaps there is more to it. 
Maybe it is in our right to be offended. It shows progress in first world countries, since it's explication of individualism. He, who can be offended, has dignity that can be touched. He who has dinity has been acknowledged by society as an individual, who's worth existence.
Then who am I to go against this basic human right? A right that has been created in our era of Enlightenment, the right to be provided in our most basic human needs, the right to study, to have freedom of speech etc.
Me giving any form of criticism that offends society is a stab against those ideals, isn't it?
My reply to this, is a clear no. If there is anything I admire in the world, it is the progress the western civilisation has made when it comes to the notion of human rights. 
I would never say those ideals are wrong, if anything, liberté, égalité and fraternité are what I redeem one of the core principles of my ideal state. So, what is actually my concern? 
To put it clearly, I have the fear that people have become too proud. 
In the beginning I’ve stated my own pride as something I see as a restriction, but also progressive. I am glad I am proud. I am proud that I am proud in my thoughts and opinions and I don’t expect anything else from the world.
This is however the case, my pride served as an analogy as to what has angred me. The hate I carry against humanity, is a hate that I don’t oversee from a higher point. It is something that I recognize.
Not only that, but this pride ignites anger and rage, that is self destructive. And it creates the most inhumane acts known to man, the inability to think. Therefore, letting yourself get carried by those who can fulfill your need to satisfy your pride. I can only name 1939 as a number to spark your memory. 
And I know that we will go down in history as a dark age, if we do not realise the ambiguity of our pride, the ambiguity of our freedom and let ourselves be carried by egocentric pride. 

Heartbreak

"Life is too short to be restraining yourself."

No, it's not. It's too long, way too long. Painfully long, like waiting an eternity for a doctor's appointment.
It can hurt a lot too. So much so, that you forget how to breath. It causes headaches, that make you lose your ability to reason and when, that's not enough, the pain finds its way through your body.
Then the mental pain transports itself into your chest, where your heart actually feels like it is being stomped on and is slowly falling apart into tiny icy pieces.
Even worse, the pain inside your head and the numbness inside your arms and legs can't compare to the aching beating of your heart, as if it's giving up on itself. Beating hard and slowly.
You feel the beating in your whole body, right through your soul, with loud echoes. This sensation can be overwhelming, you want to scream for it to stop, it's too much at once.
Please, just become silent!
Suddenly everything loses its color. It's just a dark pitch of nothingness, where beauty has come to die. Colors have received a grey layer of ash. They have lost their vibrant tones, it's empty and hollow. Music turns into a huge chaos of random notes, the songs you once loved, only give you headache. Your mouth is only means to save you from starvation, everything tastes the same anyway. It's all empty, shallow, boring and lifeless.
This is the naked truth of the world and the truth is an ugly grey lifeless reality.
If one were to say, that this numb feeling of emptiness would never stop, I'd eventually figure out how to live my life. Empty, but bearable.
Had that person said that the anxious twist in my stomach would last forever, I'd have no problems giving away my soul, just so the pain could finally go away. This sensation of constant nausea was the climax, the only emotion that was both the darkest moment of your life, but also the most emotion driven. Oddly enough, perhaps something to look forward to, just to escape the numbness.
But these are all consequences to the real problem that's buckled inside of you. The flame that kept you ignited, has slowly lost its flame.
You decide that the world has become grey and empty, therefor you become grey and empty. There is nothing left to intrigue you anymore.
The only thought resonating before you fall asleep is how you will manage to get yourself up the other day. How will you face the smiling people around you? How should you dress? How should you present yourself, when all interest in the outside world had been lost?
And when those days come, you know that there is nothing to enjoy about it or to feel intrigued about.
It will eventually pass anyway, you tell yourself. Before you can laugh at that joke, your mind tells you shouldn't laugh this way. Or that it's not worth enjoying yourself, since it's a matter of time it will all eventually turn into air and dust.
This alone is enough to make your day lose its value. And so you dread waking up every morning, not only wanting to avoid others, but most of all yourself in front of others.
Covered in blankets in your dark room with no sound is the only safe spot.
And you will cry to a point where you feel there is no hydration left inside your body.
Always swinging from one extreme to another. From extreme sadness or happiness to empty numbness.
There is nothing you can control. Worst of all, what people might actually think of you. Yet they're always liars, when they do tell you what it is they see, because they cannot justify this amount of ugliness, whether it is in character or appearance.
You've finally seen the world in its true colors. Endless shades of grey. The truth of the world is an ugly one and you're carrying the weight with you everywhere you go.
It's so hard to explain your emptiness, since it's hard to speak about nothingness. So you might as well keep quiet and not give away too much of your odd self.
People you care for might leave forever. They have a colorful world to run after.  A long life of new discoveries, while you feel that you've been stuck on the same date for months with no progress whatsoever.
The scariest part is losing people you care for most. How long will they patiently wait before the flowers of spring alert them that the grey winter has passed and a colorful spring is awaiting them? Is it selfish of you to expect them to wait? Or is that what friends are for?
Your voice consists out of deep sigh. There is no voice, because little can be said with a mind so filled with confusion.
We might as well give up all together. He'll leave you eventually and he'll find someone more attractive, you were just a phase.
Your family only wishes for your happiness, which you can't promise. They might give up and eventually learn to safely enter and exit your grey world.
Your friends will find other people who can make them laugh. And in the beginning you'll desperately run after them. Always the first to message your best friend, as she has other things on her mind. Always trying to stay a bit longer to socialise and try to laugh a bit. Well, whatever.
Never mind it. Eventually only that what works is good in life. This didn't work and there's no point to anything, so there is no reason to hope for anything more.
You just want to lie down in bed and close your eyes and in the end, stop existing all together.

Diary of a Certain Lady: Chapter 10 (End)

Epilogue:

They got me. They have found her and thrown me inside this place. What can I say? It was nice for as long as it lasted, but extases aren't meant forever.
I must give it to you, lady Fortuna, you are indeed worthy of praise.  I have finally bowed before you. Are you happy now? Have I done well and pleased you? The control over the world is back inside your hands and I, as your humble servant, can’t, but obey these laws of determinism. 
It was quite a wild adventure, I have never felt alive as I had right then and there. My mind is clean and the sight of Mother has finally left me. Yes, I’ve finally fallen into immorality and sin. The right path has shown itself before me. Although oddly enough, I would’ve never thought that it would be a diabolic lady like yourself who controlled the injustice that led to my fall. But now I do understand that it wasn’t you who was injustice, it was me. Mother was the only thing keeping me on your path, yet I had ignored her presence, even after I had declared her as death. My heart beats peacefully though, with the right pauses at the right moments. Air feels fresher, colors more vibrant. Oh how blissfully immoral I was, yet I knew it was all thanks to you, lady Fortuna. 
My Light has lost her flames. That saddens me though. Yet at the same time, I feel blessed by you. Had it not been for you, I would’ve never known her in the first place. The torture and despair she had caused me and I had caused her made my stomach twist and turn. Oh how joyfully red the carpet was stained with her insides. How vibrant the colors, how sharp the sounds she made. I can’t thank you enough for showing me all of this. I was foolish for not listening. I understand that a queen ows her name to her followers. What a plague and disease I must’ve been to your perfect laws of causality.  A horrible sight it must’ve been for you. 
Know now that I’ve seen the Light. I know you had demanded my immoral mannerism and I have acted upon them, as I should. 
Bless you and know, that I, your humble writer, bear no regrets for whatever I have done. 

On Rejection and Nihilism

There were, are and will be times in your life in which you will experience rejection. This in itself is a terrifying fact that we cannot escape, let alone know how the live with it and sharpen or norms to its bitter existence. 
And out of all states of mind, this one in particular bears a stingy feeling of discomfort with it. Just because of its so called destroying nature.
A sense of rejection is a state of mind that destroys hopes, aspirations and dreams. It is the grandfather of nihilism. The grieving mother that gave birth to a son it didn’t want. 
There's no denying every single one of humanity has faced rejection in some way or another. And how macabre it was to experience powerlessness. Trying but not achieving. That moving forward doesn’t guarantee that desired throne we wanted to sit upon while the a warm voice is saying: “You have done your best, my child. It was enough and more than worth it.”
And we, the gods of the new world, who reign over it behind our technological innovation, seem not to have accepted the power of defeat that so mercilessly has proven its existence over and over again to us through the centuries of failing. But that's no wonder, seeing our pride. 
And yet I ask you to remember, that one time in your life where you had shown the world your brilliance in the form of a talent you possess or by hard work. And how wonderful it felt to have finally talked yourself into being courageous. One final step forward and you would have reached your end. 

(I realise I am intentionally enlarging the situation, but only with the purpose that it will the more relatable. These general lines of experience are what every human goes through before the final blow)

And when the rejection finally does take place, it is not just the sense of judgment laid upon your act in itself that may stir your emotions, it is all that positive buildup from beforehand that suddenly collapses all together. And it falls and it crumbles, draining every bit of confidence and courage you had in mere seconds. And what you’re left with is angst, followed by an emotionless state of mind that’s too shocked to even comprehend what just had happened. 

This is rejection. So familiar and mind numbing it us.  This is the grandfather of nihilism. A crusher of ideals. The stone in our path that stops us from moving forward, not being able to look into the future. Yet it makes us regret looking back and hating ever having chosen this path. Imagine this for multiple times in your life. A path that stops halfway, yet being told that if you try hard enough one day you will reach your throne and you will comfortably reign over the worries of yourself and, if you’re idealistic enough, of humanity. This lie becomes the engine of your pursuit of happiness. What you’re left with is a huge nothingness. Nothing to move forward too, but to drained to even consider another way. So you sit there in the middle of the road. Stuck between two possible extremes. 

As a considerate reader you might have seen similarities to The Myth of Sysiphus by Camus, in which Sysiphus was doomed to eternally roll a rock up a mountain, just to see it tumbling down just as he reached the end. Let me elaborate on this. 
“Let us imagine Sysiphus happy”, Camus said. Let us imagine he is considering rolling up the rock as a life project in which he can still realise himself in some sort of form, by which he is not doomed to emptiness. That even in the most miserable situations it is possible to idealise oneself and to try realise that goal. 
Let me then pose the following contra-statement. Let us imagine, I say, that it is not a miserable place we live in, but that we are in paradise. That this society of empty consumption has realised itself into our paradise, in which we have no shortcomings. Complaining would be shushed. The habitants of paradise would be pointing at the damned burning in hell telling me: “But at least, you’re not them.” By which I would subject to this argumentum ad absurdum and nod in agreement. 
Imagine in this scenario that it is us living in paradise, but we are unhappy. There is little to nothing to achieve, that truly matters to our existence in the broadest sense. Things that would truly make us worse off by missing the chase of it or understanding the meaning of the word by true experience instead of false imagery. 
In this paradise everything exists before us. Clothes to the point of overproduction. Food, as much as our hearts desire to the point where obesity is our main health concern. Hostility towards our friends, because our eyes have been blinded by the bright heavenly light of wanting more and more, but not always being able to obtain it in such a human packed place. 
The voices keep telling us, that there is better to obtain, that we aren’t working hard enough, desiring hard enough, buying hard enough in order to obtain the obtainable. Namely, the thrones of the gods who are sitting above us, exclaiming that we should be grateful for the purpose they have presented in front of us. The purpose of becoming them and that rejection of this means wanting to burn in hell. 
The question that should be asked is this hypothetical scenario is, which of the places would I rather be? Is it paradise or hell? Paradise, where idealistic views will never be realised? Or hell, where you’re stepped upon for not ever being able to participate in this nonsensical game of so called self realisation? 
Having lived in paradise, having walked against many doors with false promises, rejection after rejection after rejection, it is no wonder that there would be some among us that would choose neither.
Thus stop moving forward. Letting everything drop and sigh dissatisfied over the flaws in the so immanent perfect paradise. 

Where is Sysiphus truly now that Camus has left him? Which gates have opened before him? Is Sysiphus even truly happy? But most important of all, what is he doing?  Sysiphus doesn’t live in a sort of hell, pushing the rock for eternity. He’s not happy. He’s in paradise, he’s unhappy with his rock besides him, sitting, doing nothing, but contemplating his suicide. 

Subconsciousness: A Stream of Thoughts

Let all the thoughts flow.

Touch my inner core, make me feel like I exist.

The world is empty, meaningless. 

God, my eyes hurt. 

I should sleep. Maybe next to someone. In my next dream I won't be raped.

Continue rubbing your eyes. 

Where should I go to? A trip by bus away from here to an empty beach. 

La vie n'est pas souffrir. 

J'ai mal aux yeux. Someone kiss them please?

My mind is empty. 

They used to say automatic writing was the Devil possessing you. 

Now we know it's our subconsciousness, which is as equally rot as him. 

My eyes hurt, I hate sleep, I dislike waking up.

The loveliest moment is that small moment before you fall asleep. A different dimension, not between dream and reality, but another world. 

My hair feels so soft, I wanna drown in it. I wanna drown in your arms and perfumed chest. 

Tea resembles the temperature of the human body. 

Are people who love tea more sexually frustrated?

People scare me a lot. 

I will be alone forever, what a relief. Touch now and then won't hurt though. 

We're all human after all. 

My body is itching, maybe insects are crawling over me. 

What would it be like having no father? 

I will leave them one day. They will rot eventually.

Not that they deserve it... 

I'm sorry for the way the world works, dad. Being born out of raped has caused mommy another blessing. 

A blessing or a curse. 

Whatever. You say you're happy. I assume you're not lying, not because you're not telling the truth, but because you have no choice but to be happy.

Let it not be a plastics smile. You look down on me, I know that.

I am hungry, I think. 

Scars are actually aesthetically pleasing to look at, if they're done well.

An unpopular opinion, I believe.

I should stop eating so much, but it's delicious. 

It doesn't matter, I'll just eat one meal a day for the next few days. 

Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten. And swallow.

I'm so hungry. 

When will my hair grow? 

Long hair is very sexual if done right. 

Playing with guys' emotions amuses me, just staring deeply into their eyes is enough.

I don't know why I do it. 

As revenge, a grudge against human injustice. Showing their shallow needs. 

Filthy animals. 

It's ten o' clock. Time to sleep.

God, my mind is fucked up.

Empirisme vs Rationalisme

Als liefhebber van Plato neig ik ernaar de rationele weg de voorkeur te geven, omdat Socrates gelijk heeft dat de vergankelijke wereld een schijnbeeld van zekerheid kan opwekken bij de individu. Denk hierbij aan een stok die je in het water steekt, waarna een deuk in de stok gevormd wordt. In wezen is de stok recht en door te rationaliseren kom je logischerwijs ook op die conclusie.  

Ik betwijfel het bestaan van een Ideeënwereld die hij poneert, maar wat ik niet kan ontkennen aan het denkvermogen van de mens is dat wij inderdaad de gewenning hebben om waarneembare zaken te bestempelen met diverse labels. Iets is Goed, iets is Mooi, iets is Rechtvaardig, enz.  

Wat de reden hiertoe ook moge zijn, deze begrippen worden in het alledaagse leven gehanteerd, om een referentiekader te vormen voor ons wereldbeeld, hoewel je het Goede of het Mooie of het Rechtvaardige niet als op zichzelf staande begrippen kan aanwijzen.  

Plato heeft in de abstracte zin van ons waarnemen zeker gelijk, zou ik zeggen. De Ideeën bestaan, zij het niet enkel in ons hoofd dat enkel in ordeningen kan nadenken.  

De empiristen daarentegen hebben een aards beeld over de werkelijkheid en kunnen op die wijze een hogerstaande werkelijkheid afwijzen, waardoor de focus ligt op datgene wat het meest prominent aan ons voorhanden ligt, namelijk de materie en de werking daarvan.  

Het nadeel van deze methode is echter wel dat je enkel kan redeneren tot aan het beginpunt van de potentieel waarneembare werkelijkheid (denk aan The Big Bang) en tot aan de begrenzing ervan, waardoor je vastzit in een kader van zintuigelijke waarnemingen. 

Voor de empirist die een oorzaak der allen dingen afwijst, zal dit geen probleem vormen en zal hij genoegen nemen met die kader van de werkelijkheid.  

Echter voor de rationalisten in de wereld, die de beweegreden en oorzaak der ontstaan van dingen willen kunnen begrijpen, is dit niet voldoende. Dit ongenoegen noemde Plato al in de Phaedo.  

Tot gevolg dat wellicht de natuurkundige wetenschap volledig wordt afgewezen om een andere richting tot onderzoek te nemen.  

(Zie citaat) 

''Ik zou heel graag in de leer gegaan zijn bij om het even wie die me kon leren hoe het met zo'n oorzaak gesteld is. Maar die oorzaak bleef me verborgen: ik was niet in staat ze zelf te ontdekken en kon ze evenmin van anderen leren. (d) En zo heb ik dan bij het zoeken naar een oorzaak het over een andere boeg gegooid.'' 

Goed, we hebben dus twee uitersten geconstateerd in het dialoog. Eentje van het ultiem empirisme dat enkel de oorzaken van de werkelijkheid op zich behandeld, dat wil zeggen een descriptieve uitleg van de wereld, dat enkel zover gaat als de waarneming toelaat.  Vervolgens eentje die de wereld omvat in een weerspiegeling van een absolute werkelijkheid, wat men rationalisme noemt.  

De voorkeur die ik geef baseer ik op het idee dat er in beide ideeën een kern van waarheid existeert, dat zichzelf op een dusdanige manier moet ontwikkelen waardoor de botsing opgeheven wordt.  

Het empirisme bakent de werkelijkheid wegens natuurkundige principes af, wat logisch is wanneer je realiseert dat de mensheid zelf deel uitmaakt van die genoemde werkelijkheid. Ik zie het als gegeven dat wij binnen deze vier muren van waarneming gelimiteerd zijn om kennis te hebben over de zaken zoals ze op zich zijn. Bestaan in deze wereld staat gelijk aan deel uitmaken van deze wereld. Het overstijgen is lastig en misschien onmogelijk, want hoe hard we het proberen ook aan ons gelden de natuurkundige wetten.  

Maar daarentegen beschikt de mensen over een rijk, die zich wellicht ontleent aan de empirische werkelijkheid, maar zich niet ertoe limiteert.  

De fantasie. Een plek die ik zie als broedplaats voor de nieuwsgierigheid, waardoor de mens zich aan het dierlijke onttrekt en vormgeving geeft aan zijn individu.  

En in hier meen ik dat de rationaliteit het meest te pas komt. Het empirisme mag dan wel de werkelijkheid in formules en descripties beschrijven, het rationalisme verfijnt het op een dusdanige manier dat het aan de mens een reflectie vormt van zijn positie in de wereld en hoe hij ermee om kan gaan.  

Twee methodes die gepaard moeten gaan om ons te helpen bestaan.

Diary of a Certain Lady: Chapter 9

“You know? If I had to name one thing I dislike about your face, it would be your teeth. I mean, they just don’t match your appearance. You have a gorgeous face, with gorgeous features and beautiful rosy skin, yet you have these ugly crooked teeth that ruin your face. Not to mention your smile, I might hate that the most,” I was pulling on a strand of hair. 
My mouth felt dry and I was trembling with frustration. I can’t recall what had caused me to be so mad. Nor do I remember when this conversation took place and why. I just know that we were both inside the hotelroom, with Fortuna guarding the door, ready for my misfortune to take place. I also know that after that night I fell a deep sense of anger and regret. My mind was empty and I felt dirty because of what she had caused me to do. Looking back on it, having the time to analyse my thoughts and characteristics, I know I was being irrational, but what could I do? Light can blind an individual from seeing the world as it is. Twisting  and turning us towards the roads our rotten hearts want, instead of what our good willed mind desire. And thus I had uttered my senses of stress by becoming mad at my love and life. 
Mea vita, mea culpa. She was perfect as she was. Even with her crooked teeth, childish mannerism and awkward presence, her character trades came together in a blend of different flavors, flowering into one big explosion of sensuality and pleasure. Yet, that moment I couldn’t even bear the sight of her. Something about her felt off. Her smile irritated me, her silk hair seemed so thin and lifeless, her big eyes reminded me of a broken porcelain doll a child guilelessly would throw away. 
Suddenly though, I knew whay it was that felt so off. Her lifeless presence. Her hollow eyes and skinny legs. She had shrunk in a metaphorical sense. She had become empty. It seemed as if the crapulence, of which she, the wine was the cause of (a wine I thought I could eternally drink of), had worn off. I had become sober again, I finally saw the world in a different light. A world not radiated by her, but by the sun, the stars and the moon.
Oh bliss, bliss and heaven... Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh…   What a different world it was! So crystal clear and beautifully illuminated, yet empty. Transparent and hollow instead of filled with mystic.  
“You don’t have to say it that way, I already know it,” she answered with a thin voice and watery eyes.
“No I don’t mean it in a rude way, it’s just an observation I made. Nothing to be sad about, hey stop crying,” I looked at her with raised eyebrows. She was sniffing, hiding her watery eyes behind her small hands. I had to chuckle for some reason. She looked at me in awe. 
“It might be a weird thing to say,” I paused for a second to scrap my throat before continuing. “I actually think you smiling is a terrible thing to look at. I mean, look at yourself now. You’re beautiful. You look so innocent and pure. I have difficulties refraining myself to touch you again like previous night.” I reached over to touch her cold arm, but she frightfully pulled back. 
“Please,” she said, “can you stop mentioning last night?” 
I felt my stomach was turning. A burning flame near my genitals tingled at the sight of her. Butterflies were flattering inside me and my cheeks were feeling hot. I didn’t know whether to be mad at her insult or feeling joyous at the mentioning of it at all. I licked my dry lips before asking:
“Why not? It takes two to do such an act, sweetheart,” I stroked her wet cheek. 
She cried until her clothes became soaking wet. I sat across of her, staring at her. She was indeed gorgeous if she hid her awfully looking teeth. But it wasn’t the same. She had slowly become plain. What a shame! Who would’ve thought that I’d associate a Light of God with terms as ‘awful’ and ‘plain’. But here we were. And perhaps it wasn’t her, perhaps it was me. 
Perhaps her radiating presence had lost effect over me over the course of our vacation. She was still Noor, but more dim. She had become a case on which I had to sit and ponder about instead of livie inside my own perks of reality,  something Mother had caused me to do as well. These interactions and social norms that were expected from her side from me were making me furious. How dared she drag me into her norms of reality! She was no less than Mother. A devil in an angel’s attire. There to drag me into their underworld. I was raging with anger and my flirtatious blush had become a deep agonising red. Sweat was on my forehead and I tried to control my heavy breathing, but after this wonderful insight, I had difficulties stopping myself from going all out. 
“You’re a ungrateful spoiled child,” I screamed at her. “A devil, I tell you! First there to seduct me with your angelic presence and innocent eyes, but I know what you are upto. I should’ve killed you in the bus, for now you will drag me with you into this world illuminated by hellish fire of stars and the sun. Don’t fool me. I know it all now,” I could see she was trembling in fear, but I couldn’t care less. It was not merely the frustration of reality that crept upon me, my burst of anger was everything I had kept inside over the couple of days we stayed together, exploding into a mass of rage. 
“Why won’t you radiate anymore?” I continued to her, “Hm? Answer me. Why did you change, Noor?”
She continued crying and shaking in fear. Her hair was sticking to her damp face. I shook her wildly before she finally answered me. 
“For the hundredth time, I don’t know you ma’am,” she screeched at me. “I really do not know what you’re talking ahout. Just let me go, I wanna go home, please ma’am. I just wanna go home, I don’t know you. Believe me, just let me go home, please. Please,” she had run out of breath. The last few words took the most out of her and she collapsed onto the ground. 
My mind was blanking at her response, I couldn’t think straight at that moment so I felt I need to lay down on the bed. The nausea was taking over me again and I tried to surpress it by swallowing a few times. My body hurt, but worst of all, my heart was empty. Little drops of water were rolling down my face. I picked a cigarette from my pocket and lit it before letting myself drop onto the bed and roll up into a ball desperately hoping I would soon dissolve into a gust of wind.

Diary of a Certain Lady : Chapter 8

I sometimes have moments of clarification.When the sudden thought of my existence pierces through me. Clarification, yet at the same time, a deep alienation and depression for my environment, because of my environment. I can see nothing, but the darkness of the inner core my mind, bouncing back to me from the others due to my impure thoughts and acts.

When I woke up, I was in my room. The lights were out, but I could vaguely distinguish the objects surrounding me. 
The lamp was sitting on a small table besides my bed. The window was open and a cold salty breeze filled the room.The curtains were rustling softly and the door closed. The table and chair near the television were the most difficult to see due to the way the moonlight lit the room, but they were the first things my tired eyes noticed.
Noor was sitting there, the chair turned towards the bed and away from the desk. She was looking out of the window, her tiny fingers were plucking her pink lips. Her eyes looked empty, as if they had been awake for a long time. She noticed the sound of the bed cracking. 
''You're finally awake?'' her soft voice whispered as I tried to sit up straight. 
My hands were hurting. My head hurting. 
''Yeah.'' I answered in a trembling voice. 
I tried to remember what had happened. I saw the beach before me, Noor sitting in front of me. The bruises on my hands remembered me of what had happened. How I had an attack Mother always hated so much and how I embarrassed myself in front of Noor. 
Blood was rushing to my cheeks and my heart was  pounding heavily in my chest. My head felt light and as she spoke to me, I couldn't do anything but break down in tears. I didn't hear what she said and frankly I didn't care. Embarrassment was the only thing I could feel at that moment and I was drowning in it to the point I couldn't breath anymore. 
I had buried my head inside a pillow, too ashamed to look at her worried eyes. She quickly rushed over to my side. Her warm petite hand was stroking my back and pushing my hair away, so that they wouldn't stick to my damp cheeks.
My throat hurt as I was desperately trying to inhale the cold air. My lungs were refusing the unfamiliar air. My head felt light, I couldn't think straight anymore. 

What are you doing here? What's the point, eh? Why are you here? What is your purpose here? What are you doing here? What's the point, eh? Why are you here? What is your purpose here? What are you doing here? What's the point, eh? Why are you here? What is your purpose here? What are you doing here? What's the point, eh? Why are you here? What is your purpose here? What are you doing here? What's the point, eh? Why are you here? What is your purpose here? What are you doing here? What's the point, eh? Why are you here? What is your purpose here? Your purpose. Why are you here? The point, eh? Your purpose. Tell me your purpose.  

''I wanna go home!'' I finally cried. Noor looked startled. 
I could slowly feel my breathing tempo becoming normal again. I sighed a few times deeply, until my heart rate became regular. A void of nothingness replaced the panic.
''Hm, hm,'' she mumbled. 
I looked at the sheets, as she stroked my back and touched my head. I felt ashamed and gross. The girl with the fair hair climbed on the bed and sat across of me with her legs open towards me. Her hands were resting in front of her and she leaned on them, uncomfortably moving to the front and back. 
She looked so young and childish. Her shoeless feet were visible and she wiggled her toes. Her eyes were filled with worries. 
''Please say something,'' I begged as she was looking out of the window.
I couldn't see what she thinking. I tried looking for her eyes, but she turned her head away from me. Her blonde hair had a blue glow in the night, that made her look more mature. When she finally turned her gaze towards me, her eyes were looking right through me. I felt a shiver in my spine as she spoke. 
''You can't go home,'' she said in a rather icy voice. 
''Why not?'' 
She stared out of the window again, now biting her lower lip. I waited patiently, but she remained silent. I waited for her lips to open up, but nothing came out of her. 
My heart was aching, so I leaned towards her and took her pale hand. They felt surprisingly warm in mine. She first looked at our hands and then at me. Her eyes looked inviting, her lips whispered something that my head chose to ignore. Maybe so I could fully imbibe her presence. 
As she sat there glowing as pale as only the moon could, I can tell you, dear reader, had she obeyed me to die before her, I would've fallen before her feet. Right there in that very room, with a blush of shame on my cheeks, I could only think about what sweet secret there was for me to explore behind the ivory chambers that beheld the lock to our intimacy. 
A lock for me to open. 
As I pulled myself closer to her, I felt our friendship bloom to its fullest. The shame I felt earlier completely vanished in order for me to drown in the sea of lust that her thirst provoking lips pulled me into. And with every sip I took, my need to drink grew.
That was indeed, my dear reader, the moment I had come to the realization that she whom I had seen as a friendly stranger, had become my mirror in more than one way. Reflecting not only who I truly was, but also reflecting the long held desire we both felt and that was finally reaching its climax.

When the peak of the mountain had been conquered, she layed besides me with her head buried in my neck, while I lit a cigarette. Her lips finally opened up.

''I wanna die.”