Tag: Existence

Dark Thoughts on the Highway

On By Alex V. WeirIn Alex Weir, Philosophy, Social Commentary, VlogLeave a comment

Ah.

The freeway.

The highway.

The open road.

Isn’t it lovely in the sunshine?

Thoughtful in the rain?

Aside from the regular irks and occasional rage.

Our roads are hopeful places.

Wistfully beckoning towards adventure and memory.

It’s rare to see them as tragic.

As manglers and as dealers of death.

Unless we ourselves suffer or witness the suffering of kin at their hand.

And even then those memories fade.

Roads are a utility a commonplace.

And things that are such. Things that are commonplace breed amnesia.

So again we see them as doorways to the sea, to mountain peaks, to friendly houses, and concert halls.

This is the horror of the commonplace.

Of the day to day.

Of forgetting the uncanny nature of life. Of conscious life. Of the divine spark.

These dailies…these things…

Things that through their prosaic hues mute the masterwork.

Obscuring.

They are a living death.

A zombie looking blankly down the road.

Notes On Transhumanism – An Essay on Being

On By Alex V. WeirIn Alex Weir, Philosophy, Technology, The Fractal Journal, UncategorizedLeave a comment

No one gets a grip on living. The uncanny fact of existence is elusive. This is, no doubt, due to the transitory nature of mankind.

How well can existence register in a mere eighty years?

Are there any mortals that can pluck the flower of being?

Such questions may never be answered.

Even if one were to take into account the emerging trend of transhumanism.

Such an extension of faculties would merely yield an excess of yeses and no’s.

One’s and zero’s, life and death, light and shadow – the inescapable binary of mortality.

Suppose one extends this one material life we know. Suppose one extends it to eternity, whatever that is.

What then?

Can an eternal biological calculator fathom the mystery of being? Why there is an is, its relation to is not and the peculiar arrangement thereof?

Perhaps, but this perhaps is tenuous.

This past century mankind has exponentially increased its capacities. Yet such an increase has yielded more of the same. The same miasmic binary that limited Plato limits the 21st-century technocrat.

What are we to do in such a dispiriting situation?

Perhaps the answer is nothing.

All this wild blossoming is indicative of one thing.

The best thing to do with the flower of being is to water it.

For how can a flower pluck itself?

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