THE SKINNY ON SPIRITUAL BUOYANCY
'It was gone.'—16-year-old Chief Keef, Chicago Tribune, April 2012.
It was gone.
The only soul that can fix its attention upon affliction is one that has been killed by a true contact with a more than impossibilized god. This is the main principle of the following, that a soul may be pushed all the way down (quirked down, if you like) but in so doing it only returns to the Central Axis of the Non-Reifiability of All Things. Take Ciara Horan aka Eliza is Dead for example.
Eliza is the one who has announced her death so many times (R.I.P.) that her own will to appear and disappear has been destroyed. From Eliza’s point of view, which is pure iteration qua angelicism, the time we are living through may as well be the second Holocaust, and this time the Real One. In the same way, the will to discursive formation can be destroyed (only) by a repeated using up of verbal clones and slangs. Wander in haunted places and the haunted places shall become as nothing to you. Ongoing one-off biomorphic extinction is no exception to this eidetic reduction.
I am baptising her by her full name, therefore, Ciara Horan aka Eliza is Dead. We dedicate the following to her.
We may as well be at a party during the Holocaust
inside which we do
Based Retard Freestyle
fr fr.
The Idea that the will can be destroyed by the accomplishment of impossible things—or that we will not be destroyed by these same impossibilities—is the unitary principle of Spiritual Buoyancy. Our claim on the universe is that we think we have a right to continue. The ‘using up’ of lexical clones and slangs (from ‘quirked up shawty’ to ‘retardery-to-come’ and so on) is a way of developing a buoyancy as to the the Idea that we do not naturally or necessarily have such a just-if of continuance. Willed repetition of personal demise (per Eliza) is the attainment of superfluity-in-one—as what the Tibetan masters call Tögal, namely in and as the only generation we may now have—as a leap or iterative ‘rip’.
The simplest way of putting it is that there is infinity in the principle of Spiritual Buoyancy and it is infinitywithend, but that this (end) turns out to be buoyant too. The point of the Internet, and what will have been its meaning, is the exhaustion of every single last buoyancy point until the point where everything is just coming up again and again.
When Weil says that nothing but the whole universe is beautiful, we may repeat her and say nothing save the whole universe is buoyant. Buoyancy is a way of throwing the sense of a universe ending over one’s head towards in front of one and catching it. Buoyancy captures the capture, and and puts it back—thrown like a ball which captures itself in mid-air.
Buoyancy Supreme, the almighty Pussy of All Great Content, the experience of the Buoyant as ever-present and profoundly reliable, the vertiginous pass of being which loses its name so as to take another, which is lost to another, and yet again another, through all Reality Winning, until the Ereignis, until what we are proposing here, which is an experience (in)alienable from art. Even in the highest achievements of the search for beauty, in art or science or whatever, we do not find the truly Buoyant. The only true beauty, the only beauty that reaches the real presence of God, is the beauty of the universe as eternally Buoyant. Nothing less than the whole universe is Buoyant.
This is why the whole universe is always coming up.
And why I was born to come up.
**
I’m writing the Spiritual Skinny for you, Retard Kings, Perfect Extinct, Gothamists, Reality Winners.
It contains what I want to call coloured milk i.e.
1. the word without the word for the end of the world, and
2. the thought without thinker uncontainable.
It will be a question, again, of the 3%.
Don’t Be Rushed By The End Of Time
My friend who understands Weil better than me referred to a passage ‘where her [Weil’s] errors are put down to an “impatience for the absolute”. ‘Made me think ofc! she also knew time was running out.’
I felt that I needed to take more time with this thought of errors because time is running out. Same, I thought. She also knew. But also sometimes I experience and think about absolute patience because time is running out. (We can therefore rewrite the sentence and say ‘I felt that I needed to take more time with this thought of errors because time is running out . . . because time is running out.’)
Can we envisage the absolute patience needed for the absolute as a special effect of time absolutely running out?
Rewatchability (Rewatching Films Is The Essence of Dzogchen)
I have started to transfer my ability to rewatch films to my Dzogchen praxis, and vice versa. There are some films (Nixon, Zodiac, JFK) that I have rewatched what feels like 100s of times. Rewatchability is different to the being of a ‘masterpiece’. I could happily die tonight without rewatching Citizen Kane and yet I will see Zodiac again before the end of the week. I now rewatch Teachings in the same way. Reiterability leads to the realization of non-reifiability. This is why rewatching films is the essence of Dzogchen practice.
Sometimes I Like My Writing To Be Ferocious
My Rinpoche says, sometimes peaceful, sometimes wrathful. This is a deep teaching. I never know if I have the right to write in a particular way. What feels good and looks beneficent is not necessarily good and beneficent in lower and higher dimensions. This is what Shakespearian means. Good action bad causes, bad causes good effects.
There are things which the human mind can only think under the torment of intolerable suffering and hate (the Book of Job), even though, after that, the same thoughts can then be arrived at as the business of sheer variation.
How does this leave an imprint? Do without?
At a minimum, something has to confront the body with the nothingness of God and its extinctness while it is still alive. Pure thinking is more important than survival, but it cannot (yet) (quite) arrive at its own. The only soul that can fix its attention on extinction qua pure image is one that has been more-than-killed by a true contact with a more-than-impossible God.
Versailles
When I was a teenager I listened to Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis every night in Versailles. (I was drowning out the washing machine in the next room.)
Unbounded Relativity
When 18 I always felt I had no time left even though I was yet to think in a sustained way about ‘extinction’. Now after years of doing just that thinking, I feel I have (almost) infinite amounts of time left.
Weil on Punishment
When speaking of the punishment of criminals, Weil says ‘only when cured, and if they feel the need of it, should they be made to suffer’. That’s a sublime contemplation for us. Weil’s thought supposes, imperturbably, that only freedom brings with it the necessity of being made to suffer. The incarcerated, on the other hand, should be free of suffering. She is saying that punishment is for the free and well. Only a truly mature civilisation would recognise the need to use deep wrath as an evolutionary arrow. Wrath free of sadism; a love letter from God. Incarceration, therefore, as an image of freedom. Abolitionism an image of chains.
The Skinny On Spiritual Buoyancy
Imagine something written many years ago and how it took this long to become impressionable. Impressionable here in the sense of the verb imprimere, ‘press into’; something that may be easily altered. Now, suddenly, the thing seems there, and before it wasn’t there at all. It took only a tweak.
My Rinpoche made a brief passing remark about buoyancy. That we can press something (we think it exists) but it always pushes back to where it really is (it doesn’t exist). Take your thigh: press down, it comes back. In this sense, our commitment to spiritual reiteration is Buoyancy, and buoyancy is the forcefield and magic word of all evolutionary unlearning.
If This Is It
We may soon wish to see-through the if in Lana Del Rey’s ‘if this is it I had a ball’ because there is no ‘if’ to it all at all. Unless there be infinite patience in offering the hand of love right now just as that.
Call Me By Your Name
Imagine if you were literally to call me by your name. Which is to say I were to literally call me by your name.
I Can Die Soon But I Don’t Mind, One Second Was Enough
I can die soon but I don’t mind, one second was enough.
As Buum Says
As Buum says, ‘or that we are God talking to herself’.*
*adapted
No Prisoners
The magic word meaning that because the victorious will not quarter (house) captured enemy combatants they will take no prisoner at all and all enemy combatants must be killed is at first sight war-like. Hold on, we hear something else. The will as discursive intelligence—our beautiful spiritual buoyancy—must make plans and it must use up its faculties. It must destroy its faculties by wearing them out, or by getting used to them at depth. Buoyancy as reiterability is like being able to push into a piece of glass with your finger and then watch it take shape again. This formal elasticity is not the opposite of a plasticity but the great reveal of ubiquitous non-reifiability. What counts is that we persevere and destroy language and that we use up the discursive intelligence absolutely.
Reading Duras
It is too easy to repress Duras’ profundity by classifying it as the peak of civilizational cringe. French people are deeply unfashionable after all and always will be. The see-through mechanism of French civilization (as opposed to Chinese, Tibetan or American) is on display in the French nouvelle vague, which is now empty, along with the rest of French cinema. What all of these films show is erratic and superfluous human behaviour as varied montage peaking at a level of incomprehensible ‘civilization’. Go to a castle, and find oneself hallow. Take yourself out of Paris in August, and be happy neither with nor without friends. Montage a Hitler speech with porn. Nothing is discovered, nothing at all. Nothing has changed in hundreds of years of making.
Lol
On the other hand, we need to approach the book The Ravishing of Lol Stein very quickly and without much fuss. It (still) contains an image (of buoyancy supreme?) and that image is a word. This word in turn does not have a word. There is no word for this word. Is it still an image?
When Lol Stein returns to South Tahla and takes up walking it turns out she is doing so to remember the word-that-is-not-one for the end of the world. The end of the world was directly and indirectly an emotional analogue (Michael Richardson’s exit) not because this was a betrayal but because it was a token of sudden extinction. Lol was therefore the first to live with a biological, first-person experience of third-person extinction. We are told this because the narrator loves her. In other words, the whole matrixial scene of the word for the end of the world which is not a word is held within love, narratological love. Insofar as narrative makes possible this un-word and its maintenance, so does marriage. If it were not for marriage, Lol Stein would not achieve the Secret of these walks, the secret being the ongoing, sustained, iterative, non-reifying contemplation of the word that does not exist for the end of the world. For the one who does, the point is to stay awake and have no tomorrow. Perhaps in a sense what Lol remembers is not the Michael Richardson end of the world word, but the staying awake at the Ball word. They were the last ones. Everyone else had left, and they were still up.
The Thought Without The Thinker
Bion said that ‘all thinking and all thoughts are true when there is no thinker’. Mark Fisher died because he couldn’t think the thought without a thinker he wouldn’t give up a name for. Suicide—an error in purity—is an errance of the thought without thinker. Thought without thinker, be perfect. Thought without thinker, be adamantine. Go all the way in giving up the name and knowing it does not mean life or death. Perfect sky flower mind. The name makes one write like a name. The name one makes while writing without writing. The name keeps one in the falsity of thought, all thought. All thought with a thinker and name is false. We must discourage those who cling to the thought with thinker. We must make them wobble. They, them, us, ourselves. Go all the way in giving up the name and knowing it does not mean life or death. Perfect sky flower mind. The name makes one write like a name. It keeps one in the falsity of thought, all thought. All thought with a thinker and name is false. The pure name. The purest name. Wiped out like a golden universe. The empty name. ‘Sky Flower Mind.’
I Don’t Fuck With You At All
When the 18 year old retard king Axxturel sings ‘I don’t fuck with you at all’ he means the secret theology of ‘no prisoners’. Do not fuck with anyone.
Infinite Time
Once you realize ‘extinction’ is reiterable because it is non-reifiable, you have an infinite amount of time.
So-Called Errors
Illness of any kind is the resistance of thought to the thought without thinker. Resistance of any kind is the resistance of thought to the thought without thinker. Profusion, effulgence, buoyancy, error, this is the thought without thinker working itself out. Suicide is the refusal of thought to think the thought without thinker. Politics is the refusal of thought to think the thought without thinker. Thought, all thought, is the refusal of (all) thought to think the thought without thinker. What they mean when they say something is being repressed or some work needs to be done is that the thought without thinker is present (Pure Name).
The Flowers of Heaven
The flowers of heaven have no independent existence; they are non-reifiable just like the flowers of earth.
The Image of Lol
Duras would have decided not to film Lol Stein because too much. The image of the word that is absent for the end of the world is too heavy. The image of the word there is no word for is, one might say, the entire say, or the single photograph, like Marianne Klein the character who never exists but is mentioned briefly in one or two films. When I was 9/10 years old I had a direct intuition of this word. I associated it with the skyline. I acted as if the skyline were itself the word.
Marriage And The End Of The World
Lol’s feeling of being left, the way even in marriage one can suddenly walk away in front of the other with another, madly in love with that second other, only Duras can be this brutal, and yes, only extinctions are wired into the feral inner logic of love and marriage in this way. To not be able to touch love and marriage because one sees straight though them. Duras is the rare being who sees all the way through and then stops. But it’s true one can be married or in a relationship and then someone walks in and one would infinitely—more than infinitely, right away—walk away with them. That’s not betrayal or ineptitude, it’s something else we should listen to. At depth, it means relationships are on the rapid wane; it’s our job not to need them—being will and does do that for us anyway. Or, on the other hand, marriage is the place where one secretly gets to have not an affair, but an affair with the word that does not exist, the word for the end of the world that should occupy all other words, and does. If you have the affair with the one that does not exist in place, there can be no catastrophe of being left because really for another civilizational template (the civilisation of Tibet for example) they already have the word that does exist, it is loving open intelligence and its translations, for example the mind of great bliss seeing emptiness as spiritual buoyancy.
The Ravishing
The Ravishing. The ravishing is the being left. The word for the end of the world.
The One Sentence
The one sentence that interrupts (this) is unbearable for us. It is unbearable because it is the one that has to interrupt the need to contemplate the end of the world all of the time with no sense of tomorrow so that we can survive.