Hi Phil, sorry for the delay.
For me, life in itself will remain a tragedy until death is real. And for this unfortunate reason all truths are just “white lies” meant to divert one’s thoughts from this one, ultimate truth.
Life is a tragedy because kt never ends “well”; death cannot be considered as anything else, but a tragic end, leaving whatever leads to it a tragedy, by all its means. I am well aware of this view’s rather fatalistic shade, but realism must consider “reality” at its face value, in a way which doesn’t leave any space for empty idealism. Two truths have deterministic value for one’s life: birth and death. Whatever happens in between is an intricate, half-conscious escapist journey, of bending all “truths” to suit the ultimate truth, death. This continuum of accommodating existence to its futility, makes all truths into actual lies, biological necessities meant to establish the sanity gap between now and the inevitable “never again”. Communist ideology was right to call religion “opium” because one of its purposes is to provide a false hope, good enough to release the daily living’s sanity hormones.
As for the rest of us, the daily interpretation of our own realities keeps us busy until the end.
My own position revolves around Nietzsche’s anger and Sartre’s resignation, with an intellect capable of enough fundamental contemplation of beauty, to make futility bearable.
Did I reply anything suitable as per your question?
Hi Moshe, thanks for explaining your view of life. Aristotle wrote that to say of what is that it is is true (is to speak the truth). I think this is an excellent definition of truth from an ethical perspective, which allows for many more truths than those of birth and death. It is true that I value your friendship – not because I am filling in time until death escorts me into oblivion but because you have qualities I respect, qualities I choose to have in my life.
It is true that I really value a flock of rainbow lorikeets I have finally (after many years) managed to attract to the block of flats where I live and which I feed slices of apple to every afternoon.
I don’t weigh this truth against those of my birth and death – it is a truth in my life.
I don’t think of my life as an escapist journey, rather the opposite – against extraordinary odds I have come into being and feel an ‘obligation’ (to my good fortune in being born) to make the most of my abilities.
Dear Phil, I do agree with you from an existantial, and thus mandatory for life point of view, but from a strictly defining philosophical pov, which must consider absolutes, I feel to be in the right.
It’s the plight of the poet to have been touched by philosophy’s sometimes damning exactness; the muse may drag inspiration from chambers of the soul estranged from one another, and therefore a philosophical article may sound absolutely antithetical with the emotional waves of a poem. But sometimes the two meet, and fell in some sort of desperate love, usually one night stands, both deep and shallow, tender and savage…
What I know about existence, I’ve learned to subordinate to what I wish it would be; therefore I live and create as touched by immortality’s carelessness…
THEORETICAL PHILOSOPHY 
Hi Moshe, how would you describe this view? Best regards, Phil
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Hi Phil, sorry for the delay.
For me, life in itself will remain a tragedy until death is real. And for this unfortunate reason all truths are just “white lies” meant to divert one’s thoughts from this one, ultimate truth.
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Hi Moshe, why is life a tragedy and why are truths lies? Phil
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Life is a tragedy because kt never ends “well”; death cannot be considered as anything else, but a tragic end, leaving whatever leads to it a tragedy, by all its means. I am well aware of this view’s rather fatalistic shade, but realism must consider “reality” at its face value, in a way which doesn’t leave any space for empty idealism. Two truths have deterministic value for one’s life: birth and death. Whatever happens in between is an intricate, half-conscious escapist journey, of bending all “truths” to suit the ultimate truth, death. This continuum of accommodating existence to its futility, makes all truths into actual lies, biological necessities meant to establish the sanity gap between now and the inevitable “never again”. Communist ideology was right to call religion “opium” because one of its purposes is to provide a false hope, good enough to release the daily living’s sanity hormones.
As for the rest of us, the daily interpretation of our own realities keeps us busy until the end.
My own position revolves around Nietzsche’s anger and Sartre’s resignation, with an intellect capable of enough fundamental contemplation of beauty, to make futility bearable.
Did I reply anything suitable as per your question?
LikeLike
Hi Moshe, thanks for explaining your view of life. Aristotle wrote that to say of what is that it is is true (is to speak the truth). I think this is an excellent definition of truth from an ethical perspective, which allows for many more truths than those of birth and death. It is true that I value your friendship – not because I am filling in time until death escorts me into oblivion but because you have qualities I respect, qualities I choose to have in my life.
It is true that I really value a flock of rainbow lorikeets I have finally (after many years) managed to attract to the block of flats where I live and which I feed slices of apple to every afternoon.
I don’t weigh this truth against those of my birth and death – it is a truth in my life.
I don’t think of my life as an escapist journey, rather the opposite – against extraordinary odds I have come into being and feel an ‘obligation’ (to my good fortune in being born) to make the most of my abilities.
Best wishes, Phil
LikeLike
Dear Phil, I do agree with you from an existantial, and thus mandatory for life point of view, but from a strictly defining philosophical pov, which must consider absolutes, I feel to be in the right.
It’s the plight of the poet to have been touched by philosophy’s sometimes damning exactness; the muse may drag inspiration from chambers of the soul estranged from one another, and therefore a philosophical article may sound absolutely antithetical with the emotional waves of a poem. But sometimes the two meet, and fell in some sort of desperate love, usually one night stands, both deep and shallow, tender and savage…
What I know about existence, I’ve learned to subordinate to what I wish it would be; therefore I live and create as touched by immortality’s carelessness…
LikeLike