Do We Even Exist?

I'm sorry, what was the question? I have since been distracted by sobriety.:p

I must confess, my previous post from last night was only 1-2 glasses of wine shy of my diatribe against my own existence within The Agony Column. It is with great irony that I am must now struggle to interpret my own words. Suffice it to say that in the realm of philosophy I typically maintain the distant role as a provocateur of irony in lieu of a champion of insight. I am a contradiction of my own convictions, after all. In fact, I enjoy all subsequent interpretations to a degree that I shall decree each within the intent if my original statement.:cool:
 
May I first say that the gigantic detour was, though in some ways upsetting (due to the personal comments of a former member) had some good points and not just about Ligotti. We may want to start a discussion about the mental health of writers. Persdonally, I'd start with Poe. This way we don't have to talk about MY mental and emotional condition. I mean that I function well enough in society, but if someone put everything I ever said and wrote under such forceful scrutiny, who knows how well I'd stand up?
I joined the Network because I thought that Ligotti is a great writer. I mean Nobel Prize great. I rank him with Faulkner, Hemmingway and Fitzgerald, to name a few. Also, I like to read and sometimes comment on the different forums. This could be one of my favorite.
As I see it it is obvious that we exist. We think, we feel, we are afraid, we love, we hurt, etc. We act on things and peopel and things and people act upon us. The real discussion is about the meaning of our existence. Does it have any? If not, can we give it any? Questions like this are where this discussion should go.
Another important part of the question is: How do we know that we exist? There are many aspects of this part of the problem that need to be discussed. For example, as some men and women get older the places where they lived change and they start to have trouble mentally. A widow or widower who move from the house that they lived in they often seem less of a person. Maybe they really are. This is just one little part of a big question.
The third part is: Is existence a constant? Can I make myself esist more or even less? Do events determine our level of existence? If my town is torn down and rebuilt do I lose a lot of myself? (thnk of the Pretenders song) There is much to think about.

ps if Ransey Campbell ever reads any of my works he'll probably hate them. Oh well!
 
Mr D,
Much earlier on this thread, I speculated generally on illness and existence. For example, older people gradually lose their memory and/or touch with reality. When do they cease to be the 'I' that existed in the past?
Even at the relatively young age of 60, I find the signs of this already! Some even say that I've been like it for ages!! :-)

Yesterday's exchange on the Aickman thread is relevant to this:
From towards the bottom of this page:
http://www.ligotti.net/showthread.php?t=298&page=6
 
Mr. D. said:
May I first say that the gigantic detour was, though in some ways upsetting (due to the personal comments of a former member) had some good points and not just about Ligotti. We may want to start a discussion about the mental health of writers. Personally, I'd start with Poe. This way we don't have to talk about MY mental and emotional condition. I mean that I function well enough in society, but if someone put everything I ever said and wrote under such forceful scrutiny, who knows how well I'd stand up?
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I say it sounds like fertile ground to toil in. While I have not even approached Tom about this thread or the recent strife, the great irony is that I would place a good wager that he would either be indifferent to labels referencing his mental health or agree with them. I would not expect him to be offended, as even if he disagreed with the terms or level of assessment. I did not get a chance to state this before the thread began to unravel beyond mending. This is speculation, mind you, but the point is again not that the topic or idea which was found to be too offensive, but the despicable demeanor of the agent which was in the end intolerable. I'm not agreeing with the statements which were found to be so controversial, mind you. Instead, I am making the point that I consider the stray topic which became so volatile as fair game and the related opinions are free to be expressed. How is that for irony?

Indeed, I consider myself a struggling neurotic and the term "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_illness" is itself a very broad categorization that might well net a surprising percentage of the general public and I daresay a higher level among TLO members. Welcome to the sanitarium. Choose your therapy and enjoy your stay.
 
Dr. Bantham said:
Indeed, I consider myself a struggling neurotic and the term "mental illness" is itself a very broad categorization that might well net a surprising percentage of the general public and I daresay a higher level among TLO members. Welcome to the sanitarium. Choose your therapy and enjoy your stay.
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I'm quite sure I could go to a psychiatrist and get myself diagnosed with something or other (even people who are more "normal" than I am could do that), but I have no intention of ever doing so. As long as I can function in everyday life and my mental climate is at least tolerable to me, I have no reason to, as I see it, subject the essential privacy of my mind to such intrusions from anyone, whether they are a "professional" or not.

That said, psychiatry is a needful thing for those who are in unmanageable distress, and I am grateful that people such as Ligotti have publicly revealed at least some aspects of their problems and diagnoses. We can all learn much about the human mind, including our own, from such personal descriptions. It's certainly a fair question to consider whether a writer's mental or emotional condition has distorted his view of things. But unless a writer is obviously psychotic, I don't think his self-admitted mental problems can legitimately be used to simply dismiss what he has to say. This appeared to be what albie was doing. It's all-too-convenient to wave away such a large amount of deeply thoughtful and remarkably cogent expression with the comment that, hey, it's just the illness talking.

As I said in another thread, one of the benefits to me of reading the draft of CATHR is realizing that pessimism is a matter of degree. My view of things, while bleak, is not as thoroughgoing in its darkness. If CATHR really gets to you, as it did to me, then you have to come up with some response to it: How much of this do I and don't I accept? Ligotti's intransigence makes the work more valuable than if he had presented a more qualified, moderate pessimism. It's a bracing aid to thought for those of us who are inclined to be qualified and moderate and to see some value in life where he evidently sees only darkness. In reaction to CATHR I've actually become somewhat more sanguine and appreciative of life than I used to be. For years I've thought of myself as pessimistic, but now having seen the real, pure, hard stuff, I've consciously taken a step or two in the other direction. I admit that this may be just a matter of irrational denial, the animal protecting itself from the terrifying vistas of cold reason. But like most people, perhaps including Ligotti, I can't quite shake the feeling that my emotional, gut sense of things is a vital part of my apprehension of them, and is in any case something that I can't avoid letting color my thoughts and actions.
 
Fellow Members,

After some time away, I returned to The Network to see how the thread fared. Imagine my surprise. Only now have I just finished reading every word and insight. With bleary eyes, I both commend and thank all of you for your illuminating and not surprisingly, eloquent comments. Admittedly, the course of things veered in a few less fortunate directions, but I think we can all count ourselves edified by the journey.
Personally, I don't really doubt that I exist. What I do question frequently is whether said existence matters beyond ego and validation ritual. What has always entranced me about TL's work is the way in which he can weave words into an experience of personal dread/terror/horror that so seductively expresses an emotional or even philosophical frame of mind that mirrors my abiding mortal anxieties.
There is obviously nothing new about feeling mortal dread. By questioning it though, we are at liberty to seek a different perspective on ourselves in the midst of the experience. The horror often arises when we find we're so overwhelmed by the experience, we are unable to find that more optimal perspective and in so failing, lose some part of ourselves. If we are all part of the flow of experience, dread then the undertow. What I've gleaned from this thread is that while we all may share existence as a common affliction, each of us are mercifully(compellingly?) unique in our ways of coping with and defining said existence. Thank you all, very much.

In Twilight Abiding,
HC
 
bendk said:
"In a mad world, only the mad are sane."
- Akiro Kurosawa
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That sounds good - but, unfortunately, isn't true. A bit like in the country of the blind the one eyed man is king (see H G Wells' story).

It may be true that the lunatics (or at least some of them) have taken over the asylum. :(
 
Nice post, Hildred.
Since I was a child I have had very few illusions about this world. I have almost always expected life to be difficult. I am by nature a fighter, so I have been able to do a little better than simply survive.
Now that I have actually learned a few (very few) things I have learned to relax and enjoy things a bit. None of my problems have gone away but I have a better attitude towards them. Maybe that's the begining of wisdom, though I never thought of my self as particularly smart or wise.
Existence is a temporary condition, so I feel that the pressure has been released. No one knows what comes after. In fact, there's no hard evidence that anything comes after life is over. So, why worry?
I remember an old saying that I thought was really funny when I was a shallow, smart-mouthed teenager. It went: a hundred years from now none of us will care about this one way or the other. It may still have some validity.
 
Thanks Mr. D.

I admire conscientious fighters(survivors) and you've certainly given this dreamer on the verge of moral twilight food for thought. I remember the first time I heard the line about no one caring in 100 years from the first Terminator film, of all places. I also remember what Brenda Wyatt told Connor McLeod in the only good Highlander film, "Most people are afraid to die. That's not your problem. You're afraid to live." I think survivors who are relatively secure in themselves tend to develop the wisdom to find harmonious equilibrium with a life so often fraught with adversities. I think Jospeh Campbell referred to it as "joyful participation in the sorrows of the world."

I think I used to strive for that, but forgot how along the way.

"We enter this world naked, bloody, and screaming. That sort of thing doesn't have to end there if you know how to live right." - Dana Gould
 
Mr. D. said:
Existence is a temporary condition, so I feel that the pressure has been released. No one knows what comes after. In fact, there's no hard evidence that anything comes after life is over. So, why worry?
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I agree. Perhaps surprisingly, this fits well with my Kemetic outlook. Consider this famous Harper's Song from middle kingdom Egypt. (The translation is by Vincent A Tobin and is taken from The Literature of Ancient Egypt 3rd edition, edited by William Kelly Simpson (Yale University Press, 2003).

Fortunate is this prince,
For happy was his fate, and happy his ending.

One generation passes away and the next remains,
Ever since the time of those of old.
The gods who existed before me rest (now) in their tombs,
And the blessed nobles are also buried in their tombs.
But as for these builders of tombs,
Their places are no more.
What has become of them?

I have heard the words of Imhotep and Hardedef,
Whose maxims are repeated intact as proverbs.
But what of their places?
Their walls are in ruins,
And their places are no more,
As if they had never existed.

There is no one who returns from beyond
That he may tell of their state,
That he may tell of their lot,
That he may set our hearts at ease
Until we make our journey
To the place where they have gone.

So rejoice your heart!
Absence of care is good for you;
Follow your heart as long as you live.
Put myrrh on your head,
Dress yourself in fine linen,
Anoint yourself with exquisite oils
Which are only for the gods.

Let your pleasures increase,
And let not your heart grow weary.
Follow your heart and your happiness,
Conduct your affairs on earth as your heart dictates,
For that day of mourning will (surely) come for you.
The Weary-Hearted does not hear their lamentations,
And their weeping does not rescue a man's heart from the grave.

Refrain:
Enjoy pleasant times,
And do not weary thereof.
Behold, it is not given to any man to take his belongings with him,
Behold, there is no one departed who will return again.

I first read that in my teens (in a different translation) and it has remained with me ever since, affecting me profoundly.
 
Odalisque, the Egyptian Harper's Song is oddly reassuring and comforting to me. It is proof positive that the same concerns have troubled human thought throughout history. The Song certaintly qualifies as Optimistic Passage of the Day. Thank you.
 
G. S. Carnivals said:
Odalisque, the Egyptian Harper's Song is oddly reassuring and comforting to me. It is proof positive that the same concerns have troubled human thought throughout history. The Song certaintly qualifies as Optimistic Passage of the Day. Thank you.
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I think that much the same concerns, both profound and petty, have concerned people for a very long time. We (as a species) change less than it may sometimes seem. Another ancient text -- addressing a more petty concern -- may illustrate this. An Egyptian scribe bemoaned the way in which the young men of his day drove fast chariots to the public danger. They still do -- it's in the nature of young men.

The Harper's Song takes what could be very gloomy reflections and puts a positive spin on them. The Harper's Song does not belong to it, but there was a genre of pessimism in ancient Egyptian literature. But even the pessemistic literature could have a positive conclusion. Perhaps the strangest of the pessemistic works is a case in point. It concerns a man who longs for death -- but his soul (ba -- "soul" is an inexact translation) is tired by his complaints, and threatens to leave him. The man -- through the medium of a series of poems -- advances reasons to prefer death to life. His ba is won over and concedes that it will stick with him. The full meaning isn't clear -- partly because the beginning of the text is missing. Some have considered that the man was contemplating suicide, but there is no clear evidence for that. What is certain is (a) that the piece has many gloomy reflections and (b) that it has an upbeat ending.
 
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