25-07-2016

I've read a lot of Schopenhauer. By a lot I mean, the amount of time I've spent on him. I've only read a small book explaining his thoughts and then the first twenty pages of Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung. (The World as Will and Representation) 
It took long, because he's German. I like him a lot though. His character contradicts the way he writes. He's extremely elegant and articulate in his writings. I've read that he was a nasty person. A misanthrope and convinced life was nothing but suffering. I was sceptical and avoided him, but when I heard he influenced Nietzsche, I got curious how someone could come to that thought.  
I like his metaphysics. The Will is the force that moves everything. But the Will is not rational, it's a destructive force, that just wants to move. Like a fire, burning everything in sight. It destroys everything. The Will is the core of the world. It what makes everything strive. Everything has Will, which is why the world is damned to suffer eternally. 
So he says, to have desire, is to suffer. Happiness only exists as a negative. In absence of suffering. We are happier after overcoming hazards. I'm not sure about his metaphysics; it sounds credible, but I'm not well read or clever enough to give any comments. The thing about happiness is something I've discovered a long time ago though. I was pleasantly surprised it was being reaffirmed by a great thinker. Guess it shows I'm not crazy.
Either way, I've realized that he is right. When it comes to life, I'm always on the negative scale. I also feel inherently that when there is nothing left, my core consist out of the (I want to say "need" or "urge") to suffer. Willingly? I don't know. It just happens. I just need a chair and my thoughts and insanity will strike shortly after in no time.
That's dangerous, but it's also a blessing in an odd way. When it's lifted, I feel bliss. Intensely and deeply. I get touched and moved deeply for that reason, if I get moved at all. I need art, poetry, and philosophy for that reason; to lift up my spirit towards brilliance out of my constant state of grey distaste. I can't cope with boredom for that reason, nor with boring people. They have no brilliance or brilliant remarks. They reassure me it's right to give up on life.
The claim that truth transcends anything else is something I have a double relationship with.
Whether something in art is true or not, is not my primary focus anymore.
It matters insomuch that I'm aware that perhaps Schopenhauer 's metaphysics is nonsense. Mainly because it's not scientific. I know nothing of science to back that up with. I'm also not noble enough to speak up against Schopenhauer or science. Not yet. I'm still too ignorant.
Schopenhauer may not be compatible with modern day science or reductionism.
But that's not enough to keep my flame burning. Beauty manifests itself in those things that oil my fire.
The things, the people, the moments, the art, the thinkers, the music or the poetry that has the ability to make me perceive a small moment of eternity. That is what I call true for me.
Whenever I feel that a cold wind is blowing, I will run away from it.
In my eyes, there is one truth that is relative to the rest: without passion, there is no point in living.