gautama333
Trismegistus
- Joined
- Jan 17, 2026
- Posts
- 72
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- 49
The idea of a person's permanence as being seems inevitable. But belief always has bad consequences.
The way in which the idea of person presents itself always points to lack. In occupation one interacts with the name, as an unknown index of uses. One is curious about persons, in that one sees possibility of occupation through the unknown multiplicity of the possible surrounding world of that presented at a distance.
However, and every time, the search for elements out of sight of the person reveals that nothing was ever there, but the name in your (or in general not mine or yours) occupation. But outside, what might've been thought as being the same invariably disappears from sight, often revealing the emptiness of facing the lack head on.
People just exist, but they're existance is far beyond comprehension, even if you're knowledge of them is a form of comprehension (of what is partial). Going beyond comprehension leads to realize there was nothing where one was looking for something. One can't understand people as people aren't more than distracting flashes in the depth of activity.
There is no one out there, not me, not you, or anyone.
There's no reason to love or hate, as there is nothing to love or hate but a world in which to be in and perform, and the knowledge of it's representation as possibility.
Love, as hate, is blind, but in the sense of the naive's inability to accept the world in it's constitutive bleakness.
The way in which the idea of person presents itself always points to lack. In occupation one interacts with the name, as an unknown index of uses. One is curious about persons, in that one sees possibility of occupation through the unknown multiplicity of the possible surrounding world of that presented at a distance.
However, and every time, the search for elements out of sight of the person reveals that nothing was ever there, but the name in your (or in general not mine or yours) occupation. But outside, what might've been thought as being the same invariably disappears from sight, often revealing the emptiness of facing the lack head on.
People just exist, but they're existance is far beyond comprehension, even if you're knowledge of them is a form of comprehension (of what is partial). Going beyond comprehension leads to realize there was nothing where one was looking for something. One can't understand people as people aren't more than distracting flashes in the depth of activity.
There is no one out there, not me, not you, or anyone.
There's no reason to love or hate, as there is nothing to love or hate but a world in which to be in and perform, and the knowledge of it's representation as possibility.
Love, as hate, is blind, but in the sense of the naive's inability to accept the world in it's constitutive bleakness.
