Saturday, May 15, 2010

Beauty in Darkness

"For a black heart will only find beauty in darkness..."

- Nödtveidt, 'Night's Blood'

For the shadow race, it is rather a case of being forced, through internal compulsions - never external (the external world would have us die, truly) - to see the beauty in darkness, as that is the only sort of beauty left open to us. The gates of paradise - that airy, sunlit world, filled with a nauseating sun-worshipping race, eating the world with smiles - have been closed to us, our blood will not flow there, our lungs will not fill there, and my body can not tolerate the breathing of so many lies...they fill the air like the smoke of a crematory and choke my efforts to lie in return (I must lie in order to survive). But still the instinct that we were born with, all of us - the shadow race as well as the surface dwellers, the Eloi, is to seek the One Sun of Indivisible Beauty, the source from all things flow, and while by their nature the Eloi - that blessed race, may they all drown in lakes of blood - burn their wings in chasing after waves of light (mere phantasms, mirages) I would turn to the darkness in order to feel my way instinctively (the first thing the darkness cures is the bane of optical illusion, that is to say: reality) towards pools of meaning that stretch silently within. For the Eloi, it is enough to let us die, as I said above, after robbing us miserably of our nightworld labor...for we share the same unconscious world, sad to say...and while they are content to live as consumers off the explorations and minings of others, we are forced to whimper and wait, tearing at ourselves, staring into the night...we are burned internally.

Our task is to divine the true source of internal beauty, to turn our eyes from their illusions - to blind ourselves...

The path divides easily at the very start: there are those who will be lost (living in bad faith, I should say, 'lost' is a little too Biblical, even though the connotations are similar) because they feel (they believe) that the path of the Eloi - that of sunlight, obvious surfaces, dollars trading hands, goods bought and sold, souls shrunken and waiting - is the true path towards fulfilling their instincts towards Beauty. They would find beauty in surfaces, and look no farther. This statement is actually more profound than it seems. It is only the resulting arguments that are travel-weary, the ideas behind them still have value...perhaps there are novel ways in which to wrap them. I don't have the energy or desire to find these wrappings - new strings and bows, bells and whistles - I take it as a matter of faith that when I hint at the corruption of the visible world, the surface and its relation to nothingness, etc. you, reader, understand every argument that can possibly result from this direction in narration...am I wrong?

But, in any case, those of the tribe who then turn to the darkness, both internal and external, have years of patient waiting ahead of them. Sunlit events, exposed upon the negative of the unconsciousness, take time (as our measurements of time are meaningless to the internal world, the dreamworld) to develop their results, their crystallized reactions: new thoughts, new habits, new (dare I say it?) beliefs, new patterns of looking at the minutiae of life. And in the meantime there is that instinct towards flight - upwards into the All-Knowing, the Absolute - that world of which beauty speaks to us, the hunger and thirst that it engenders deep within our vital organs. Tearing one's eyes away from the illusion, as an Oedipus (blinded in order to see the truth) inside all of us, we would invert the order of the Eloi - through hatred if nothing else. But does this inversion carry value for those still seeking beauty (as, once again, all are through internal compulsion), or is it implicitly self-destructive...that is, will it end by destroying the agents as well as the affected?

Is there beauty in darkness? Does the world of darkness carry concomitants of the daylight order of beauty - a series of mirror images existing across the Styx? Is an inversion felt to be unnatural because a reverse order already exists? Has the universe already prepared our path? Have the instincts we feel drawing us towards the darkness already been completely mapped? Have the ones who have come before already said all that can be said? If so, we must turn to new centuries of silence...we must die, in order to be reborn again...

What the Morlock would call beauty he would also recognize as a balm to his tortured eyes - a ceasing of his pain instead of a positive (over and above satiation) influx of pleasure. For the accursed, the hommes maudit, the race of Cain, who do not live in easy pleasure (unless it is that of obvious and easily-derided degradation, self-imposed degradation) but rather constant agony, as an object whose essence is always on the edge of dissolution, the ceasing of this pain - if only for a second - is felt and experienced as a positive, the messenger and vassal of beauty. Beauty arrives in order to make one forget the existence of pain, beauty is liberty...the liberty whose final avatar and manifestation will only come later with death. Beauty, seen in this way, is a foretaste of death.

For those who wish to mix their essence with the dead, the true necrophiliacs (murderers), the necrophages - absorbing death into one's self, the necromancers, who can only speak their thoughts with the dead, for these death must be taken out of the abstract and made real, brought down from the realm of pale generalizations and given flesh by an intercession in reality - the murderer gazes on the abstraction of death in his particular victim, as his victim loses the identity of an individual and is swallowed by the world of the nameless - the statistics, the decay of time, the identity lost, the owner's objects losing their owner and being re-absorbed into the common pool of man. The murderer watches time shift, mortality end, God and breath exit the corpse, eternity begin...to gaze on something like this is to test one's sanity for it is to see truth manifest itself, it is to question (and put to the test) all the illusions one lives by - not by the rote of learned 'philosophical' method (the rituals of futility) but rather through direct, immediate experience...one's faculties are immediately shaken, and one is either prepared (readiness is all) for the Truth (the utmost experience of Reality) to take form, like a litmus test, and corrode one's world, or one flees back into the darkness of ignorance...that is: the head is turned, you look away...

For those who have been lied to their entire life, as most of us have been, the direct experience of watching one's oppressors die violently can be one of the most beautiful experiences possible. Not only are their lies removed, letting liberty (and a new self-determination) breathe freely, but several things are learned almost immediately, and impress themselves upon the mind in such a fashion that it usually takes an immense amount of time to assimilate them: one, there is a higher order than one's immediately-perceived reality, and one's current/present situation is completely random and arbitrary - making any personal action in the name of liberty justifiable to one's self; two, there exists a faculty of reality - death - that always gives the lie to the creations of those who would gloss over its terrifying power, that is to say: Everyone's reality is far stronger than Their fiction; three, beauty is self-determined, personal, and relative to the beholder, and changes as one's reality changes; and four: beauty, when forced into the service of lies or untruth, is corrupted utterly at its heart and becomes one of the most dangerous faculties/sources of power for men to destroy themselves with...why? We are born with the instinct to search for truth by also searching for beauty...that which is beautiful convinces us, frail and fragile of mind as we are, without an argument, that it is also good or true...but man learned very early how to use this instinct to tempt others into falsehood, and as it exists now, in this civilization, in this time, the Eloi beauty (that of surfaces, in the light, the obvious beauty) is mainly used to capture hearts and minds and twist them to serve as means instead of ends...

And besides, after a life of lies, is it any wonder that we seek the darkness? The truth is always hidden there...

But this beauty of the Eloi is merely the play of surfaces - it distracts, little else. It can easily be seen as false - the smallest true light, placed behind it, shines through its transparency. But when weakened...ah...when in the throes of dissolution, when one feels the Earth slowly rotating, the blackness of space and the infinite vacuum of nothingness pressing upon one's fragile existence, when one feels the utter uselessness of language, when words and sentences are thrown at other objects like weapons, and nothing changes, nothing is affected, when the seasons and nights and days - all transitions - play over one in ephemeral shades, drifting through periods of light and shadow, faster, faster, never ceasing, when life seems to never end, and the grave seems as sweet as a warm bed after miles trudged through snow and darkness...then, and only then, the Nereids of Nature (the Lorelei) arrive to tempt one back to life...which is to say: the constant temptation only has validity at the point of one's suicide - at the exact second between the click of the trigger, the detonation of the charge, and the bullet entering your brain...and even the organism, beyond your control, can feel regret. When the trigger is pulled, is it your hand that inflicts death or your mind? At this point, when depression is drowning you and you are closest to death - at the bridge between two worlds - the beauty of the Eloi can be a powerful distraction, it cheats the organism by mesmerizing the Will away from its contemplation of Death. The beauty of the Flesh, particularly, the beauty of the lowest Nature, the basest levels of reality...these are poisons to burn away the disease of consciousness...one must use this beauty as a drug - an intoxicant, not a cure...there is a deeper beauty...

The search for beauty in darkness is essentially the striving to feel an underlying reality, a solid foundation, something as real as death...

But Nature, you will say...such beauty! Such remorseless, cold, cruel, inhuman beauty - like an obelisk traced with hieroglyphics one can not hope to decipher, but stirred by the echoes of voices which seem to beckon in a forgotten language, a tongue from deepest, darkest memories...the beauty in darkness is that which pleases yet still carries within it the virus of truth. I turn away from Nature because it is too real for me, and in its multiplication and listing of particulars in direct experience - particulars constantly blending in and out of the general, the abstract breathing in and out of the real (this sunset becoming every sunset becoming this sunset becoming every sunset ever) - in each moment, lending itself to reality, shaping every single second of my experience of reality - constancy in eternal change, the multiplication of particulars to a sensory overload where Nature and Reality become too much for me to process...all The Many become One because my senses can no longer see them as The Many...in all of this, all of this Reality, I lose myself in experiencing constantly, it is impossible to draw one's self into the inner world of I-against-the-outer, it becomes impossible to close one's eyes and ears and just think without feeling, without being constantly aware that you are alive...

This is the beauty of nature...

The black souls love the intercession of reality (the penetration of the truth into the false world that is spread by all the minds around us, the minds of the Eloi) because such small victories tincture/color The Lie with enough truth to offer The Initiated a path towards further exploration, towards further enlightenment. That is, they cut The Lie, and as it bleeds and seeks a hiding place to lick its wounds, it leaves a trail for the Awake to follow...

The Eloi would have us gazing on abstractions - the aurora of not-yet-real, the glow of the otherworldly, the realm beyond death...or, to be more precise, the world where death (and thus truth) does not exist...the Eloi multiply the particulars of reality until they blur into fantasy, irreality...everything is abstracted, pressed to an extreme, recombined again, everything is misunderstood...

I make a distinction, here, between the Fantasy of the Eloi and the Dreams of the Shadow Race - where fantasizing is the deliberate distortion of reality based on conscious external (given to us by the world) impulses, I define the Dream as the dictation taken from the unconscious where the internal roams freely, without the restraints of the flesh and the organism's history - as pure spirit, pure ideality.

The Eloi only seem to understand beauty when it partakes of this fantasy world, when it closes their eyes to what is right in front of them, when it turns their heads to the side, and their beauty is insubstantial, ghostly, ephemeral in both senses: that of the almost-real, and that of the inconsequential. For black souls, the beauty of the Eloi does not carry the weight of resolution, of actions taken and won, of new truths, of revolution, of pain - we must seek beauty in the shifts of reality, where it exists as something substantial...illusions do not take the pain away for very long. Only truth - truth as an acid, a fire, a drowning pool where the detritus of the Eloi's constant campaign to devalue life can be washed away...only this truth is seen as beauty...

Beauty is darkness, darkness beauty, darkness is truth, truth darkness...

For black souls, being submerged in this pool - whether through the experience of music (where it is at it's most obvious and powerful, at least for me) or through other works of art (the bare experience of subjecting one's senses to the art, and then the assimilation or construction of meaning later - sometimes years later, as I said above) is to come home to what is most natural to us. It is to see the unconscious - our personal unconscious - made real, and then to experience, in the real world, the intimation that connections will be later made in the dream world between one's subconscious and the artist's vision. That is, we have communication, a dialogue...

For we black souls, our beauty must return us to this world, for we still have so much work to do...

U. Amtey
6 January 2001
First article of the new year...