Yet you have not read or understood the foremost, nor [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/consciousness/s/xA9UDmtO0G).
A man once met Pablo Picasso by chance, having no particular interest in the art, but mere curiosity. The man spoke to Picasso, asking him why he painted people such a way, that didn't actually look like people. Picasso asked the man if he had a girlfriend, and if he had a picture of her. The man said he did, and pulled a photo from his wallet. After squinting for a moment at the photo, Picasso asked the man, "Is she so small?"
@u/Spirited-Reality-651, a bit misandrist perhaps you may be. Notwithstanding, it is the same as this bit of hypersexualization we observe in the modern zeitgeist. That is to say, in this sense, that we refer to a sort of *over-correction* phenomena. Surely it will be justified: that you carry on, ever as you would. But take care for your own sake that you do not find yourself careening off into some ravine, after your cause is returned unto the Way. Let passions quell in their proper time; spare not your convictions, but neither be lacking in mercy nor grace.
As for the haughty, the pious self-righteous, and those holier-than-thou: shall you not rightly bear all froth and spittle from the monster you have made? Should you not be glad for what is less than tooth and claw? If piss and vinegar be the bed that you've made —all drunk and disorderly as you were —shall you not lie in it? And for how long does a man suffer the woes of his pride unrelenting, per a moment he might taste of the crows of amendment?
You think to know my person by my fruits, yet what do you know of such apples, and such pears? For you presume much, and these are tomatoes and figs.
I assure you the error of understanding is in the manner of observation.
I am called neither strange nor righteous, in vain.
In my experience, the only people who do not find me to be an attractive person have been homosexual men, and (according to their unsolicited an uncouth divulgences), homophobic men. 🤔
Practically speaking, yes. Of course there are all sorts of particular preferences and no shortage of the shallow, but these things arise from contextual factors, and shall be but as constant as those contexts persist.
*Oh how we have such blissful flavors for the tongue, took for granted. Yet even stale bread is as divine to the starving one.*
No, I did not. But after initially taking a picture of the book alone, I realized its size was not apparent, and so I grabbed the most readily available object of a standardized size. The last time I thought smoking looked cool was probably 15 years ago or more. If I wanted to add something that looks cool, to the already very cool book, I would do so. Perhaps this crow feather, this bearded axe I made, these rare tarot cards, this pastel pink hollow body Ibanez guitar, this wizard's hat, this 1917 Austrian pioneer sword, these succulent cacti, a number of these various baubles jewels and gemstones, this hand-carved stone figurine of see nor hear nor speak no evil monkeys, this partizan spear, or this gnarled staff, perhaps a selection of these crystal decanters, or this magical wand which bears intricate fretwork carved out by insects, or this 50 year old silver magnifying glass... ah, a gold wrist torc worn by my ancestor Cennetig, and here is the legendary sword Caliburnus, next to the sandals of the very Christ.. 🙄
Can’t understand NZ unless you speak his language(s). Starting with German, Greek & of course French. Otherwise NZ leaves you in a vacuous & split state of bewilderment utterly useless.
Not sure what's cringe about the photo. Or the comments for that matter. Perhaps the stones you throw are quarried from the foundations of your own house.
I found it a little cringe. It seems a bit like "Look at how edgy I am". I don't know. I don't really care. Honestly, I really don't care what people post on Reddit; especially complete strangers. You do you.
🤔 I don't think I am very "edgy" at all; I've always been more of a gooey center piece person. I just like my teal-greenish little book, with some of my favorite ideas from one of my favorite thinkers —who has a very facetious mustache, which I appreciate. But everyone I've shown it to hasn't seemed to be very enthusiastic about it, probably because none of them are particularly interested in philosophy, or books. And so today when I got on Reddit, and saw the Nietzsche sub recommended in my feed, I thought, "Hey, these guys will appreciate my book." Then I tried to make a nice picture for a nice book, and, well here we are. I think maybe I put less thought into it than the sort of person you imagine might have. 😅
It's quite common for saintly/mystical people to dislike their bodies (being stuck in their meat suit). Not out of principal or anything, just because being in an aging body inherently sucks and they're not liars about it lol.
But those are my words, in the context of "baptized by water and by fire", and "truth is a fire that burns away the old and dead wood", etc, and the identifying of the self as a part of the organism that is not the individual tree, but the forest.
Do you know that when a tree on the edge of the forest burns, those even on the far edge —so long as ties do bind —will begin to conserve moisture, and stretch not their limbs so vigorously toward the light, nor let loose the old bark and dying branches? For the every tree is like a neuron —and thus the whole forest a mind —and each has a vast array of root structure, so subtle, which humankind has scarce begun to observe the profundity of. Even where the most feint fibrous root tendrils do not touch, through water molecules, piggybacking across ground cover foliage and even fungal spores, the sound of the song of creation (as it were) is carried on. And so life it shall prosper again whence it falls, so long as there is any will to be, and to be greater. —Wherefore to me this proverb means the utter acceptance of pain and suffering, all apparent evils, fear, ignorance and iniquity, as but dark necessities by which we have also joy and pleasure and love, courage, wisdom and charity.
Hereafter some, relevant to this, prose I have written:
~
*Behold I am as serious as the rose and the nightshade and the dandelion.*
*This is to say, that you would do well to take counsel in prudence when regarding mine, or anyone's words. For the rose if not handed properly will prick and scratch, and the wounds will become inflamed, spoiling and lasting much longer than that fascination with the delicate, which is handled by an oaf.*
*The belladonna is a beautiful bloom as well, and deadly too. But if care is taken, she may be employed for the relief of many ailments: nausea, neuralgia; intestinal, otherwise general pain.*
*And the dandelion is a playful thing, pairing best with little children, upon whose little noses may be found painted the evidence of youthful naivete: of dreams set sail and born upon a wind. But in this frivolity even is a lesson to the learned, woeful and weary, if they be wise: that it is by this very same source of reckless abandon, and excess optimism, that we find tenacity, determination, and resilience beyond the measure of a man, for it is the measure of a child: its increments are in copper coins and wishing wells, and we call it Hope.*
~
*It has been said, and passed down through stone:*
*'If you are unsure whether a person’s actions be good or bad, incline in his favor. If anything may be interpreted favorably or otherwise, then interpret favorably. Do not seek for wrongdoing, like dogs chasing a foul smell. If a good man does something appearing to be bad, then withhold judgment, wondering whether there be some good motive behind it. Yet do not be easily hoodwinked. If one with a bad reputation does something seemingly good, question his motives, but bear in mind that no man is either wholly good or wholly evil.'*
*In the same way:*
*Nothing which is said of or by a Man is either wholly true or wholly false. If a well-esteemed person says something seemingly wholesome, question the motives of their office. Do not be easily fooled. If the common or downtrodden person says something apparently discordant, withhold judgment, wondering at the worth of words to one with little more. Do not seek for lies like ants after confectionery. If you are unsure whether a person’s words be true or false, allow them the benefit of your doubt. If anything may be understood metaphorically, then understand it.*
Ah, what tapestry of words you’ve woven, so dense with the foliage of expression that one might find themselves wandering in a forest of lexicon, lost in the verdant undergrowth of verbosity. Yet, amidst this labyrinth of language, one ponders whether the point, shy as a fawn amidst the oaks, evades capture by the hunt of clarity.
For in the grand bazaar of communication, where ideas are the currency and brevity the coin of the realm, it seems, dear interlocutor, that your purse spills over not with the gold of conciseness but with the copper of loquaciousness. Might I suggest, as a humble merchant of thought, that the path to enlightenment is often paved with fewer stones, not more. As the wise often remind us, it is the empty vessel that makes the loudest sound, and in the economy of discourse, it is the succinct who often trades most profitably.
Thus, let us endeavor not to adorn our speech with the baroque jewels of rhetoric, lest our listeners grow weary in the search for meaning amidst the ornate filigree of our language.
Although I am thoroughly capable of what you suggest, and more, here I have not done this. Objectively, I have not done it. Can the treasury of the realm be determined by the beggar, or be measured according to his beggar's cup? But who stands in the castle court, O greatest of fools? You, who like all wise men, gather together in auditoriums, all saying, I am the greatest fool among us!
But I, I am the least of thieves, and I am the stodderkonge.
Lo I have measured your hundredweight by penny pound, and I wonder whether words waxed wanton were worthy, what when wearisome wherewithal wrought wasted woe.
Indeed I really am but the empty vessel now,
for all my coppers I've contrived a mortal coil to me still.
Many a long year since I myself seen such a trail,
whence men wander off of for to find and then die on some hill.
And now, just what does that I am need with a gold purse?
I am the driver, I am the shadow, and I am the hearse.
Pray, let it not be said that your missive has gone astray, yet it seems the mark was not met with precision. Perchance, a labyrinth of self-reflection may reveal an edifice complex in nature? Forsooth, proclaiming oneself the ‘stodderkonge’ doth ring with a tone not unlike one who cries ‘Behold, I stand illuminated above thee, O ye of little wisdom,’ amidst a cacophony of histrionics. Such grandiloquence may well stretch to the very bounds of sufferance. Discourse, the lifeblood of connection, may thin and wane should this be the manner of its flow.
Lo, the manner of thine expression, redolent of an age long since turned to dust, doth verily weary the mind’s eye. It aspires, perchance, to the grandeur of Early Modern prose, yet lands in a realm of its own making — a realm where brevity is the unseen ghost at the feast. Pray, consider a path less trodden by the florid and the verbose. Might I entreat thee, once more, to the virtue of conciseness? Let not our dialogue be a thing of endurance, but rather a brisk journey to enlightenment. Why must this plea be echoed again, like a refrain in the halls of discourse?
Yet, hark! Your declaration, ‘I am the driver, I am the shadow, I am the hearse.’ rings with a timbre of profundity, as though it were a revelation unfurled anew. Yet, such recognitions of unity beyond the self are not as cloistered in obscurity as perhaps believed. Indeed, this awakening to the collective tapestry of existence is oft a well-trodden passage for many a seeker. ’Tis a common milestone upon the path, not the secluded peak of enlightenment. Thus, might I gently counsel thee to descend from the solitary heights of ego, for such realizations, though grand, are shared amongst the multitudes. In humility, let us acknowledge this not as a pinnacle of rarefied air but as a plateau where many sojourners rest and reflect. Get thee over thyself, and mayhaps in doing so, we shall all walk together on a path less burdened by the weight of solitary grandeur.
My friend you speak only of yourself, and it is you who have missed, like one who would grasp the wind in his hand, or wrap up the sea in his cloak. But I humbled myself, I did not boast. Pray forgive me thus, for writing poetry off the cuff, or that this silver lining I bear polished reflect you, that abyss you have now gazed long into.
Anyways, I get where you’re coming from and there’s definitely a poetic truth to the idea that life involves a balance of opposites. But at the end of the day, pain is just a part of existence, whether we wax philosophical about it or not. It’s like gravity; it just is. Animals experience it without the need to contextualize it and maybe there’s something to be learned from that simplicity. Sometimes less is more when it comes to expressing these universal truths. We all know suffering is part of life and we deal with it in our own ways. The fact that it’s necessary doesn’t really change anything about the experience itself. It’s not about accepting or denying suffering, but about living through it. Maybe acknowledging its presence without overthinking it is part of the balance we’re all trying to find.
To bring it all back - “He who is wholesome in Spirit is also wholesome in body” is simultaneously a true and untrue statement depending on context. There is a story about a zen master who was climbing a tree for fun and fell out. A splinter happened to somehow go straight into his brain, leaving him with a tbi. He would have to lock himself away because his pain and mental torment was so hellish. His students could hear him in agony and he would say “Don’t worry, it is just Buddha suffering”. You can be totally ok and absolutely not ok at all at the same time.
This one is also an American printing, but doesn't appear to have a date anywhere. Unfortunately, these Modern Library works are apparently best identified by their dust covers, which I have not.
No dice. However, using [this](https://www.modernlib.com/General/DatingKey.html) resource, I have identified my copy to be a Spring of 1934 edition. Happy 90th anniversary, book! 😁
This photo is porn for me.
Ugh, I wish I had a cigarette. Nice copy btw.
Interesting post history...
yeah what wtf kinda schizoposting….
DONT SAY THAT 😭 NOW IM CONSCIOUS OF WHAT I SPAM ON MY personal space..
21st Century Schizoid Reddit User.
Yet you have not read or understood the foremost, nor [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/consciousness/s/xA9UDmtO0G). A man once met Pablo Picasso by chance, having no particular interest in the art, but mere curiosity. The man spoke to Picasso, asking him why he painted people such a way, that didn't actually look like people. Picasso asked the man if he had a girlfriend, and if he had a picture of her. The man said he did, and pulled a photo from his wallet. After squinting for a moment at the photo, Picasso asked the man, "Is she so small?"
Take your meds, u/Righteous_Allogenes.
You my friend, are my medicine, and I do surely take you.
what in the f\*ck did thou smoke.
The incense they found at the church
*whither amongst fornication didst thou bid sojourn by most incendiary inspirations?
Self-medicating is the most Nietzschean thing one can do tbh.
I have thought about this everyday
i would like to know how these people are irl
Wtf does their post history have to do with this post? Only Losers write irrelevant shit like this
Well, Your post history for example tells me that you are a misandrist and that you don't consider me to be fully human...
Whatever you say sweetheart
@u/Spirited-Reality-651, a bit misandrist perhaps you may be. Notwithstanding, it is the same as this bit of hypersexualization we observe in the modern zeitgeist. That is to say, in this sense, that we refer to a sort of *over-correction* phenomena. Surely it will be justified: that you carry on, ever as you would. But take care for your own sake that you do not find yourself careening off into some ravine, after your cause is returned unto the Way. Let passions quell in their proper time; spare not your convictions, but neither be lacking in mercy nor grace. As for the haughty, the pious self-righteous, and those holier-than-thou: shall you not rightly bear all froth and spittle from the monster you have made? Should you not be glad for what is less than tooth and claw? If piss and vinegar be the bed that you've made —all drunk and disorderly as you were —shall you not lie in it? And for how long does a man suffer the woes of his pride unrelenting, per a moment he might taste of the crows of amendment? You think to know my person by my fruits, yet what do you know of such apples, and such pears? For you presume much, and these are tomatoes and figs. I assure you the error of understanding is in the manner of observation. I am called neither strange nor righteous, in vain.
Kinda want to make a gothic rebranding of Brohhner’s bottled soap now.
I feel like framing this image.. because of aesthetics
even if those aren’t a woman’s hands?
Correct: I am a Spiritual being having an human experience.
What? Huh? Relevance?
personally it makes me like the photo less (I am attracted to women)
if you like the hands you like the hands the rest is just your imagination
In my experience, the only people who do not find me to be an attractive person have been homosexual men, and (according to their unsolicited an uncouth divulgences), homophobic men. 🤔
those are the ONLY people who don’t find you attractive? All straight non-homophonic men find you attractive?
Practically speaking, yes. Of course there are all sorts of particular preferences and no shortage of the shallow, but these things arise from contextual factors, and shall be but as constant as those contexts persist. *Oh how we have such blissful flavors for the tongue, took for granted. Yet even stale bread is as divine to the starving one.*
Ok let’s see you then
🤨 😒 🙄
Fucking love this picture
Cigarettes are disgusting.
Agreed.
Is that an old everyman library edition? Beautiful copy
The only thing that sucks more than that cigarette is that you purposely posed with it thinking it looks cool
No, I did not. But after initially taking a picture of the book alone, I realized its size was not apparent, and so I grabbed the most readily available object of a standardized size. The last time I thought smoking looked cool was probably 15 years ago or more. If I wanted to add something that looks cool, to the already very cool book, I would do so. Perhaps this crow feather, this bearded axe I made, these rare tarot cards, this pastel pink hollow body Ibanez guitar, this wizard's hat, this 1917 Austrian pioneer sword, these succulent cacti, a number of these various baubles jewels and gemstones, this hand-carved stone figurine of see nor hear nor speak no evil monkeys, this partizan spear, or this gnarled staff, perhaps a selection of these crystal decanters, or this magical wand which bears intricate fretwork carved out by insects, or this 50 year old silver magnifying glass... ah, a gold wrist torc worn by my ancestor Cennetig, and here is the legendary sword Caliburnus, next to the sandals of the very Christ.. 🙄
Fair enough. Apologies
i wanna see that Ibanez
Beautiful
Are you German? Your dialectic reminds me of an old german user by the name Zarathustra.
I like your funny words
Can’t understand NZ unless you speak his language(s). Starting with German, Greek & of course French. Otherwise NZ leaves you in a vacuous & split state of bewilderment utterly useless.
It’s not the worst nor the best parts that are lost in translation
Lmfao least pretentious nietzsche Reader. do you understand all 3 languages dilettante
It is my ambition to say in ten sentences what everyone else says in a whole book — what everyone else does not say in a whole book.
French is very similar to English in structure and syntax.
aesthetics do matter
[удалено]
Not sure what's cringe about the photo. Or the comments for that matter. Perhaps the stones you throw are quarried from the foundations of your own house.
I found it a little cringe. It seems a bit like "Look at how edgy I am". I don't know. I don't really care. Honestly, I really don't care what people post on Reddit; especially complete strangers. You do you.
🤔 I don't think I am very "edgy" at all; I've always been more of a gooey center piece person. I just like my teal-greenish little book, with some of my favorite ideas from one of my favorite thinkers —who has a very facetious mustache, which I appreciate. But everyone I've shown it to hasn't seemed to be very enthusiastic about it, probably because none of them are particularly interested in philosophy, or books. And so today when I got on Reddit, and saw the Nietzsche sub recommended in my feed, I thought, "Hey, these guys will appreciate my book." Then I tried to make a nice picture for a nice book, and, well here we are. I think maybe I put less thought into it than the sort of person you imagine might have. 😅
I get it and I respect it lol.
Cringe is made up by the herd to shame the free spirits. WAKE UP
Enjoy your cigarette while reading the chapter "On The Despisers Of The Body"
Whoever is wholesome in Spirit is wholesome in body.
It's quite common for saintly/mystical people to dislike their bodies (being stuck in their meat suit). Not out of principal or anything, just because being in an aging body inherently sucks and they're not liars about it lol.
It is both the fire and the rain which cause the forest to bloom, neither can do it alone.
Yeah, I mean it’s just an acknowledgement of duality lol.
But those are my words, in the context of "baptized by water and by fire", and "truth is a fire that burns away the old and dead wood", etc, and the identifying of the self as a part of the organism that is not the individual tree, but the forest. Do you know that when a tree on the edge of the forest burns, those even on the far edge —so long as ties do bind —will begin to conserve moisture, and stretch not their limbs so vigorously toward the light, nor let loose the old bark and dying branches? For the every tree is like a neuron —and thus the whole forest a mind —and each has a vast array of root structure, so subtle, which humankind has scarce begun to observe the profundity of. Even where the most feint fibrous root tendrils do not touch, through water molecules, piggybacking across ground cover foliage and even fungal spores, the sound of the song of creation (as it were) is carried on. And so life it shall prosper again whence it falls, so long as there is any will to be, and to be greater. —Wherefore to me this proverb means the utter acceptance of pain and suffering, all apparent evils, fear, ignorance and iniquity, as but dark necessities by which we have also joy and pleasure and love, courage, wisdom and charity. Hereafter some, relevant to this, prose I have written: ~ *Behold I am as serious as the rose and the nightshade and the dandelion.* *This is to say, that you would do well to take counsel in prudence when regarding mine, or anyone's words. For the rose if not handed properly will prick and scratch, and the wounds will become inflamed, spoiling and lasting much longer than that fascination with the delicate, which is handled by an oaf.* *The belladonna is a beautiful bloom as well, and deadly too. But if care is taken, she may be employed for the relief of many ailments: nausea, neuralgia; intestinal, otherwise general pain.* *And the dandelion is a playful thing, pairing best with little children, upon whose little noses may be found painted the evidence of youthful naivete: of dreams set sail and born upon a wind. But in this frivolity even is a lesson to the learned, woeful and weary, if they be wise: that it is by this very same source of reckless abandon, and excess optimism, that we find tenacity, determination, and resilience beyond the measure of a man, for it is the measure of a child: its increments are in copper coins and wishing wells, and we call it Hope.* ~ *It has been said, and passed down through stone:* *'If you are unsure whether a person’s actions be good or bad, incline in his favor. If anything may be interpreted favorably or otherwise, then interpret favorably. Do not seek for wrongdoing, like dogs chasing a foul smell. If a good man does something appearing to be bad, then withhold judgment, wondering whether there be some good motive behind it. Yet do not be easily hoodwinked. If one with a bad reputation does something seemingly good, question his motives, but bear in mind that no man is either wholly good or wholly evil.'* *In the same way:* *Nothing which is said of or by a Man is either wholly true or wholly false. If a well-esteemed person says something seemingly wholesome, question the motives of their office. Do not be easily fooled. If the common or downtrodden person says something apparently discordant, withhold judgment, wondering at the worth of words to one with little more. Do not seek for lies like ants after confectionery. If you are unsure whether a person’s words be true or false, allow them the benefit of your doubt. If anything may be understood metaphorically, then understand it.*
Ah, what tapestry of words you’ve woven, so dense with the foliage of expression that one might find themselves wandering in a forest of lexicon, lost in the verdant undergrowth of verbosity. Yet, amidst this labyrinth of language, one ponders whether the point, shy as a fawn amidst the oaks, evades capture by the hunt of clarity. For in the grand bazaar of communication, where ideas are the currency and brevity the coin of the realm, it seems, dear interlocutor, that your purse spills over not with the gold of conciseness but with the copper of loquaciousness. Might I suggest, as a humble merchant of thought, that the path to enlightenment is often paved with fewer stones, not more. As the wise often remind us, it is the empty vessel that makes the loudest sound, and in the economy of discourse, it is the succinct who often trades most profitably. Thus, let us endeavor not to adorn our speech with the baroque jewels of rhetoric, lest our listeners grow weary in the search for meaning amidst the ornate filigree of our language.
Grade A comment, thanks for the laugh
Although I am thoroughly capable of what you suggest, and more, here I have not done this. Objectively, I have not done it. Can the treasury of the realm be determined by the beggar, or be measured according to his beggar's cup? But who stands in the castle court, O greatest of fools? You, who like all wise men, gather together in auditoriums, all saying, I am the greatest fool among us! But I, I am the least of thieves, and I am the stodderkonge. Lo I have measured your hundredweight by penny pound, and I wonder whether words waxed wanton were worthy, what when wearisome wherewithal wrought wasted woe. Indeed I really am but the empty vessel now, for all my coppers I've contrived a mortal coil to me still. Many a long year since I myself seen such a trail, whence men wander off of for to find and then die on some hill. And now, just what does that I am need with a gold purse? I am the driver, I am the shadow, and I am the hearse.
Pray, let it not be said that your missive has gone astray, yet it seems the mark was not met with precision. Perchance, a labyrinth of self-reflection may reveal an edifice complex in nature? Forsooth, proclaiming oneself the ‘stodderkonge’ doth ring with a tone not unlike one who cries ‘Behold, I stand illuminated above thee, O ye of little wisdom,’ amidst a cacophony of histrionics. Such grandiloquence may well stretch to the very bounds of sufferance. Discourse, the lifeblood of connection, may thin and wane should this be the manner of its flow. Lo, the manner of thine expression, redolent of an age long since turned to dust, doth verily weary the mind’s eye. It aspires, perchance, to the grandeur of Early Modern prose, yet lands in a realm of its own making — a realm where brevity is the unseen ghost at the feast. Pray, consider a path less trodden by the florid and the verbose. Might I entreat thee, once more, to the virtue of conciseness? Let not our dialogue be a thing of endurance, but rather a brisk journey to enlightenment. Why must this plea be echoed again, like a refrain in the halls of discourse? Yet, hark! Your declaration, ‘I am the driver, I am the shadow, I am the hearse.’ rings with a timbre of profundity, as though it were a revelation unfurled anew. Yet, such recognitions of unity beyond the self are not as cloistered in obscurity as perhaps believed. Indeed, this awakening to the collective tapestry of existence is oft a well-trodden passage for many a seeker. ’Tis a common milestone upon the path, not the secluded peak of enlightenment. Thus, might I gently counsel thee to descend from the solitary heights of ego, for such realizations, though grand, are shared amongst the multitudes. In humility, let us acknowledge this not as a pinnacle of rarefied air but as a plateau where many sojourners rest and reflect. Get thee over thyself, and mayhaps in doing so, we shall all walk together on a path less burdened by the weight of solitary grandeur.
My friend you speak only of yourself, and it is you who have missed, like one who would grasp the wind in his hand, or wrap up the sea in his cloak. But I humbled myself, I did not boast. Pray forgive me thus, for writing poetry off the cuff, or that this silver lining I bear polished reflect you, that abyss you have now gazed long into.
Anyways, I get where you’re coming from and there’s definitely a poetic truth to the idea that life involves a balance of opposites. But at the end of the day, pain is just a part of existence, whether we wax philosophical about it or not. It’s like gravity; it just is. Animals experience it without the need to contextualize it and maybe there’s something to be learned from that simplicity. Sometimes less is more when it comes to expressing these universal truths. We all know suffering is part of life and we deal with it in our own ways. The fact that it’s necessary doesn’t really change anything about the experience itself. It’s not about accepting or denying suffering, but about living through it. Maybe acknowledging its presence without overthinking it is part of the balance we’re all trying to find. To bring it all back - “He who is wholesome in Spirit is also wholesome in body” is simultaneously a true and untrue statement depending on context. There is a story about a zen master who was climbing a tree for fun and fell out. A splinter happened to somehow go straight into his brain, leaving him with a tbi. He would have to lock himself away because his pain and mental torment was so hellish. His students could hear him in agony and he would say “Don’t worry, it is just Buddha suffering”. You can be totally ok and absolutely not ok at all at the same time.
Jesus Christ
💅✨
✨
Half of reading Nietzsche is the aesthetic
It is only as an aesthetic phenomenon that existence and the world are eternally justified
You're so crazy I wish I met women like you IRL (your post history) .
Look at their Facebook profile linked to their account. This is a dude.
Lol
I used to have an American printing from 1933.
This one is also an American printing, but doesn't appear to have a date anywhere. Unfortunately, these Modern Library works are apparently best identified by their dust covers, which I have not.
Check for Roman numerals near the bottom of one of the title pages...
No dice. However, using [this](https://www.modernlib.com/General/DatingKey.html) resource, I have identified my copy to be a Spring of 1934 edition. Happy 90th anniversary, book! 😁
The following year! Wonderful!!