The Problem With FaithThe Problem With FaithThe Problem With Faith by Canis44
THE PROBLEM WITH FAITH
Religious faith, one can think of it as believing without objective evidence. However, as Michael Shermer(2010) points out in his book The Believing Brain, for most theists they are not believing on blind faith they 'know' that there God is real(pp.178). Therefore, going from what many theists and 'believers' say when it comes to their belief, they say that their belief (faith) resides as a tacit (know how) form of knowing. When confronted by such a theistic claim, Hume would perhaps say, yes we can accept that such theists at least think that they know, but are they possibly under a misapprehension.
Faith at its core is a puerile system of belief, and it infantile precisely because it developed during a dark age when our species had no idea what a germ theory of disease was, we had no notion of climatology, or for that matter the validity of cosmology over astronomy and or biology over alchemy. Faith persists, unfortunatel
The Dulling of Intellectual SocietyThe Dulling of Intellectual SocietyThe Dulling of Intellectual Society by Canis44
Do Drugs Trivialize Human Existence?
Aldous Huxley feared that the state would whitewash the intellectual integrity out of society. Pain the antithesis to pleasure,the catalyst, which many societal and individualistic moral laws are based, would be whitewashed by pleasure. Huxley's fear was that the state would create a society fearless of pain and intellectually dulled, controlled wholly by a hedonistic notion of pleasure. Pleasure would be the pedestal of all aspiration one that people with their doe eyed desire would gleefully, yet ignorantly fall prey to like the quarry of some brightly colored predator. Orwell in his masterwork 1984, (written before Huxley) saw the usefulness of pleasure for a totalitarian state system, and feared the possibility of a negated intellectualism. The majority (85% of the population) proletarian class would sacrifice this most vital sustenance (intellectualism), so they could drink their gin
Ponderings on Religion and Kant's ArgumentPonderings on Religion & Kant's ArgumentPonderings on Religion and Kant's Argument by Canis44
Some Quotes Worth Reflecting on:
"Religious suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people. The abolition of religion as the illusory happiness of the people is the demand for their real happiness. To call on them to give up their illusions about their condition is to call on them to give up a condition that requires illusions. The criticism of religion is, therefore, in embryo, the criticism of that vale of tears of which religion is the halo. Criticism has plucked the imaginary flowers on the chain not in order that man shall continue to bear that chain without fantasy or consolation, but so that he shall throw off the chain and pluck the living flower. The criticism of religion disillusions man, so that
PulsePulse by Canis44
Ομορφιά τρομερή ομορφιά
-The Iliad III.L.190-
A pulse moves across night’s flesh
The fever that speaks,
“I have not seen my lover, in days and days…”
Rousing in the brilliant calm
shallow cloudbursts carry recent hate;
Voyaging the carrion mud, they storm barefoot
O warm light ponders them in its rays.
Within my life, motion and turmoil;
Spurring the inflections of agony
Fording the sanction between sex and casualty;
Phoebus receive thee, the bodies eaten
NeroInspired by Champlin's BookNero by Canis44
Tasting this aether, grains and moss
I find ruptures building, then clots
Mantua, after Carthage? Burning
Though Philippi was born of water
Venom clings to trireme, veins
Have been struck by many a serpent
Not by their own accord, by symbolic
Obsessions; intuitive Cadmus met the abseiling
Of mussel, a prick of bone that coiled;
Raise hands ye Apollonian in pits that
Need entrails of practical art, like how
The Dead Sea needs some open cuts.
Mercury was not sent to soothe Ioves fervor
Panoptes with a hundred eyes could
Not match one King without;
The messenger brought the crestfallen note
“I know not where he went, for he
Entered into open ground that enclosed
Before me he absented, then I was told, he goes
With a clear head into exanimate oblivion;”
Come now mine Love, lay supine
‘Neath the pulsating beams; bite down
Upon the reveille before it passes,
Through incense, and the seven hills.
Then ye pluckest your muse of choice
Trying to HuntThere was a tear sometime into winterTrying to Hunt by Canis44
It was deep onyx and browbeaten
Bleeding murk that grayed the snow,
In an unknown portion of the cedars;
Cold filled the sandwich up with slime.
“Time” said Rex, “the seer of all things
has found you out.” (Trudging went the boots)
Winter looked soft but wetly it chaffed, it made
One’s feet miserable; the gun kept slipping
And the jacket decided to forgo its warmth.
There was no grand effulgence amongst the Ether,
There was no “I” in the clouds; what was one hunting?
Geese they flew in an echelon that burned in white
Every year feeling it out, knowing better; ‘they must feel
Love? They bond for life;’ no “I” was in the cloud.
Horrible is a truth that one can find, reflected in
A swath of nature, there is no help in the hollows
Or the brooks, no solace when blood is in one’s ears
Consciousness buzzed along, and breath labored;
One listened to the heartbeat atop the clinkin
Greek and LatinΑινειάδα AMORGreek and Latin by Canis44
“Phoenician shades found (not) my lady
Bossism bled and (dum_didi) I the cause
Then wounds into uncertain beams obscured,
The Trojan’s mind with a crawling image
Ancient ramparts of almighty Rome,
He carries spurious seeds (dum_didi) for ivory gate.”
“Oh fortune urged me to renounce with haste
When pleasant morn (Dum_didi) was in full
When rage was dew on thy lustrous skin
You fair Dido, force of ardour scented like Dis (Dum_didi).
Now thy graceful steps in cool flight do cause -
My afflictions that lay bare, in this last of meeting places.”
It would be better (DUM_didi) to cross with Tacitean eyes
Instead of bleating words, that
In the early thirties, did you write for an audience that you wanted to jolt into awareness?
W. H. AUDEN:
No, I just try to put the thing out and hope somebody will read it. Someone says: “Whom do you write for?” I reply: “Do you read me?” If they say, “Yes,” I say, “Do you like it?” If they say, “No,” then I say, “I don’t write for you.”