needless to say, whenever i write something down, it rarely gives me the feeling i’m fixing something down for the rest of all times; most times it gives the feeling that i fixed the point down just to prove it wrong; i was writing about transcendence; of course i would love things to be as easy as that: to say, my purpose on this world is to meet God (nirvana/force/energy/light/tao/whatever…) but the moment i wrote it i knew this is not it; whatever made me write that was just another step in this crazy endless quest to find out what am i, where am i coming from, why am i here, why now, you know… all that…

so yes… as i keep reading henry miller (not easy to finish his book, some parts are so complex and complicated i tend to postpone the reading for times when i have the right state of mind), he seems to have had a major revelation when he read Creative Evolution by Henri Bergson; I could not have missed the opportunity to pick this up, so a couple of weeks later, here i am with Bergson’s book and a pencil in my hand, reading evolutionary philosophy (dear Amazon, please treat better your employees so i can unconditionally love you)

Bergson says that our intellect, in the narrow sense of the word, is intended to secure the perfect fitting of our body to its environmentto think matter ; he then argues that we do not transcend our intellect, for it is still with our intellect and through our intellect that we see the other forms of consciousness… i guess in the first three pages of his book he already explained to me why it didn’t feel so right to claim what i was claiming. good job! now i want more!

About Guvidissima

I love writing stuff on pieces of paper. My little brother thought I should write this stuff down on pieces of cyberspace. He gave me my own little website. I discovered blank cyberspace looks just as frightening as a blank piece of paper and I decided to take it slowly. The title came after a while, as I was taking a test on numbers, dates and personalities. Yes, I am an enthusiast. I like to believe there’s more to it than what we think there is. And I made a quest out of this. One of my friends a while ago told me I have a serious case of colorblindness, I can only see pink for some reason. Even if that’s not as true as I’d like it to be, this blog is written in a pinkish light: there is something magic about us and life, it might not be the holy truth, nor Darwin, nor the politics or the economics of demand and offer; as a very inspired Indian writer put it, I think it is the God of small things.
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