The contemporary world is thrilled by using the formula, make sense , a perfect translation of the Anglo-Saxon expression, make sense . It is comforting to repeat this expression to yourself without it actually having any… meaning, so we pick up little things that make sense, but what are these mini-meanings found on the ground almost by chance? What are these skin of sorrow meanings that Through the methodical destruction of the family, transmission between generations is lacking, the meaning of our actions is lost, so we have to invent meaning , we have to create meaning, we have to give ourselves the illusion of still living, of not having abdicated. Deceit is backed up by ignorance, and on this point too, trickery is not new. The meaning given by death within the family, this meaning almost completely forgotten nowadays, is recalled by Antigone in Sophocles' play where she stands as a guardian of the values that liberate, because they protect man from death. 'animal. Antigone reaffirms what man can and cannot; it takes hold of a force destined to protect us from our will to power and to teach us the time of responsibility; a time nowadays entrusted to specialists replacing the family, the people who compose it, and the tenuous links woven between them over time.
Author: Emmanuel L. Di Rossetti
The penalty
The pain resembles the backwash that comes and goes with languor, without languishing, on the hieratic rock that fulfills its role of whipping boy. She overwhelms it almost every time and, if she misses her shot, if she does not completely subdue the rock in the moment, she never resigns herself, she always regains her momentum and, as a kind of feint , bypasses it, surrounds it, embraces it and hugs it the next time!
Freedom darling!
Antigone is free and, as freedom is constantly won, it would be fair to say that Antigone is freed, because we never stop freeing ourselves, and learning to free ourselves. Freedom is the most repressed gift, because freedom represents the truth, it is the best interpreter of life. It tames destiny and calls to become more than oneself.
The permanent conversion
Contrary to what is often said or believed, tradition obliges a permanent conversion. Tradition is no picnic, a lifetime spent at the spa! Tradition requires constant effort. And even the most important effort: not to forget. There is only a living tradition, and to live is to take the risk of living.
The call of fate, the forgetting of vocation
To deny the origin, it is possible to affirm that the existence of past facts cannot be proven, or better that it is an accident, an accident amplified by gossip. It is here that the attenuation often proves to be an effective subterfuge, because it does not oblige to deny and is based on a part of honesty, but if the escobarderie makes it possible to extract oneself in appearance from a lineage , makes it possible to hide from the world the ghosts of its origin under the veil of ignorance, it only feigns the outside, the surrounding people, it does not offer any escapes during an encounter with oneself. It often represents the cornerstone of a fear of intimacy. Because intimacy reveals. Because unassumed fear partitions a fear of oneself into itself while denying it. How many of our contemporaries live thus harnessed to their fear of disclosure? This way of feint declines a rainbow of cowardice; a cowardice which beats the measure of silence, which creates balance and bases it on a forgetfulness of self, therefore on a loss of self, then a negation of self. The fear that does not die and does not rise again in bravery announces the death of freedom. The reign of robots. Ismene hides the outrage of Creon. Ismene has already lost her freedom. She lost it on purpose. She traded it for a little comfort. She is afraid to see herself. Ismene leads her little way as the popular adage says, which means that she merges with her destiny, even more she wraps herself in her destiny, she is one with it, she can almost to distinguish one's destiny from one's life, but destiny is an unassumed fear, destiny invites us to live a life parallel to the life we could have lived, the life for which we were made, destiny inexorably takes us away from our vocation, at the beginning we still see this vocation, but little by little it dissipates and becomes confused with a dream. Sometimes, however, an event can revive this awareness of what we are deep inside us, it is when the event becomes history.
From sense to nonsense
The contemporary world gets excited by using the formula : make sense , perfect translation of the Anglo-Saxon expression, make sense. It is so comforting to repeat this expression to yourself without it actually having any… meaning, so we pick up little things that make sense , but what are these mini-meanings found on the ground almost by chance? What are these senses, a skin of grief , which invite themselves without our being there for nothing or almost if not the residues of a past sense, of a common sense, of a good sense sculpted by the centuries? Through the methodical destruction of the family, transmission between generations is lacking, the meaning of our actions is lost, so we have to invent meaning, create meaning, we have to give ourselves the illusion of still living, of not having abdicated. Deceit is backed up by ignorance, and on this point too, trickery is not new. The meaning given by death within the family, this meaning almost completely forgotten nowadays, is recalled by Antigone in Sophocles' play where she stands as a guardian of the values that liberate, because they protect man from death. 'animal. Antigone reaffirms what man can and cannot; it takes hold of a force destined to protect us from our will to power and to teach us the time of responsibility; a time nowadays entrusted to specialists replacing the family, the people who compose it, and the tenuous links woven between them by the passing of time.
Like robots facing death
No need to be frightened by these robots from Asia who seem ready to conquer our place, because the robot is in us and it is watching us; he watches for this point of no return where the man stripped of all humanity will exhibit his corpse believing he has defeated his worst enemy. The loss of know-how vis-à-vis death has gone hand in hand with the loss of the rite: almost nothing any longer accompanies the dead to Hades, almost nothing any longer frees the living from the dead and the dead from living. The gravediggers of humanity grant importance to the rite only to mock it or harm it without grasping the liberation it procures through the meaning it reveals.
Antigone, rebellious and intimate (6/7. The vocation)
So many stories about identity! The word does not appear in Greek epic or tragedy. Identity at the time of Antigone is based on lineage and belonging to a city. Identity was impregnated with rootedness. The family and the city brought together under a virtual banner all of what the other was to know about himself during a first meeting. During antiquity, no one proclaimed his identity or promulgated it, and no one decided on his identity. It wasn't about putting on a costume. Men depended on their identity. Identity was like a charge, we had to be worthy of it. It established being and becoming. The modern era has made it an issue, because it has transformed identity into having, a sort of asset which one can dress up or discard. In its modern fantasy of believing that we can choose everything all the time, the modern era has relentlessly replaced being with having. Yet this logic, this ideology has its limits: some things cannot be acquired, among them: otherness. Living one's identity, being what one is, inhabiting one's name , allowing intimacy and therefore knowledge and deepening of one's being, these are the sine qua non conditions for an encounter with the other. The first difference between Creon and Antigone is located in this precise place, the ground on which the fight is built, Antigone preserves anchored in her this gift of the elders, of the gods, this rootedness which defines the authority to which she leans for stand up to this man, his relative, the king, who espouses the will to power and finds himself blinded by it to the point of hearing only his own voice, its echo. Continue reading “Antigone, rebellious and intimate (6/7. The vocation)”
Relativism is the horse dealer!
Relativism proves to be a sweet companion. Relativism is the horse dealer of the Abbé Donissan. You can travel with him. He is not boring, he stays in his place and shows unfailing empathy. However, he does not know compassion. Is it a problem ? Rather an advantage, he does not contradict, he agrees with me. With precision, he anticipates my agreement, sometimes he even conceives it before I have thought about it. Relativism gives the impression of dominating all certainties and has thus become the religion of the time, it is an emanation of the Republic which is itself an emanation of the Monarchy. Relativism is therefore a natural child of secularism, for this reason — it is its duty! — he keeps almost all religions on guard, a little less those who can blackmail him, with force those who would like to reconnect with a lost past. Relativism does not come to help, it is satisfied with its role of witness; he acts and acquiesces, he is a technician, an administrator, a statistician. He is not docile, he does not feel the need. He is not humble even if he sometimes manages to pass himself off as humility, but unlike the latter, relativism does not require questioning. It is certainly comforting, based on egotism and immediate satisfaction. When humility pushes to confess one's faults, relativism finds an excuse for all infractions by claiming the rule of double standards which, as its name suggests, can serve the goat and the cabbage. Where humility is an apprenticeship in the law to gain access to the spirit, the horse dealer proposes to forget law and spirit in order to live . To live with fullness or to live a kind of fullness. Relativism thus provokes death, slowly and gently, because it will erase even the presence of ideas in us, it will dehumanize us with absolute certainty. And we will agree with him. We will become robots. We will agree with him because he offers us immediate comfort, the one we well deserve, that of the impression, the one where the impression conceals the image that Narcissus fell in love with while looking at it, forgetting himself, without knowing himself, hypnotized until the death of himself. The death that befalls us.
Become yourself...
Isn't becoming oneself always becoming another? What can become of someone who does not walk towards who he is? We must constantly bridge the gap between who we are and who we think we are. What can someone who does not know who he is be? A wreck, an eternal drift, a grounding? This one can sink into all forms of submission, in particular the will to power; There is nothing that can temper it, caress it or control it. It is a question here of having the same requirement as in writing: joining as closely as possible, as closely as possible, the style and the subject. Succeed in uniting to become one. Operate and accomplish the metamorphosis to get out of oneself, to be oneself. Contrary to what is often said or believed nowadays, the perpetual encounter with the other, also called interbreeding or diversity or the next fashionable term, is only a subterfuge, a hysterical zapping, a means of s to see, to catch a glimpse of oneself and to camouflage this vision under a thankless, anemic and amnesiac make-up. Here continues to stir an agit-prop concerned with creating new needs and constantly renewing them to always create an unprecedented and endless dissatisfaction and to force the eternal and exhausting quest for the ghost of the self.