Post-Heresy or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Rebirth of the World.
-an appeal to authors, whether of books or civilizations-
***this essay is meant as a follow-up to my essay ‘Cthulhu Turns Right’, which can be found here***
A truth: any idea presumed as inherently true rather than derivative will be subject to continuous onslaught until its inevitable and complete replacement, at which point, of course, a new attack begins.
Pre-enlightenment we came to understand the world through abstractions in stories, religion and art. Thereafter, we, the West, who so believe in truth, would come to realize a God-awful one: we are not only beholden to death, the source of all binaries, but to the horrors of science and manipulations of technology. It's true. The degradation andreduction of the Western man as made in the image of God, going back to our Grecian foundations in the celebration of the individual, began as soon as man applied scientific inquiry inward, as soon as we allowed whether we were also Pavlov’s dogs.
Man-made weapons that could destroy the planet introduced the terrific power behind this discovery, forging a new frontier where mankind is subjected to both the forces of nature and nature under our control. We coped by hiding behind impenetrable convictions in the touted, objective nature of science, and have continued these investigations, reduced to the very science that seemingly created us, stuck in the gray area between objectivity and where men view themselves as lab rats, our consciousness clothed in existential mourning.
In accepting Science as the only truth, we followed it toward classification, reduction, simulation and seemingly oblivion. Eastern religions beckoned for a moment, but only because they hadn't yet been dissected. Amongst the viciousness and violence and loss inherent to life, our modern times and its accelerants and its abstractions, our new religion reduced the gifts of life and death to medical phenomena.
Still doomed to the hell of infinite binaries inherent to a conscious mortality, we called for God(s) to sooth this ontological pain, but God(s) had never been subjected to such onslaught from their own creations, always preferring wars between themselves.
Science based observations—seemingly inarguable truths framed in the context of rationale—would go on to replace the abstractions previously designated as God's responsibility. God existing only for those who would believe, never for those who would not. Is Heaven so preferable without Hell?
The more self-conscious we have become the further removed we are from any forms of divinity. If the devil cannot create anew, then truly a scientific consciousness and its representation of self is evil incarnate. Man’s scrutiny of himself on a macro and micro level. A weight so heavy never before born(e).
Under such a burden, communism punished itself, seeing man as an imposition to nature. Fascism celebrated itself, seeing man as a contribution to nature. Capitalism went a step further, seeing nature as both an imposition and contribution to man, and man as a contribution and imposition to Capital. Bless me, quantification. Bless me!
And out of these quantifications came frustration with human efficiency and productivity—damn these biological limitations. Warring against flesh and blood became the exact motivation of trans-humanism as they followed the truth that if we are inarguably subject to biological processes and influence, then those processes and influence can be manipulated, whether on accident, on purpose or by nature. Reduction once again takes the form of scientific elaboration.
In this void of life, tech minimalism and capitalist efficiency found their soulmates, their simultaneous ecstasy brought on by their burning desire for, and the self-righteousness of, logic and efficiency. Their crest: ‘an end to all variables’. Complexity and beauty become only as valuable as their utility. The world becomes a script. Society something to debug. Existence as a hack.
And so the process of constructing a new reality necessarily begins with flattening and uniformity, consideration for all because all must be considered. Dumbing-down, more forms, more assertion of control. Identification of our lowest commonalities for if that is what is common amongst humans that is what humans must be, and thereby the realest reality. Reality reduced.
All things unconsciously moving to the culmination of Virtual Reality—finally a relief from the anxieties of a STEM based world. Finally, a world controlled. Thank God. Thank Us.
Now there is no capital R return to capital R realism for capital R reality to speak of. The world has become inherently malleable and suspension of disbelief is almost permanently maintained. All terrors of the future come from the senses being unable to distinguish between what's real and is not, but consciousness remains. Existential crisis on the scale of global reality. But at least a virtual reality lets you know it's fake. I welcome you to the end of the world.
The postmodern Left, henceforth called the ‘Reductionists’, still searching for their God(s), saw in this end, this void, themselves. And if reality can be changed, then so can we. Having always looked to life before as idyllic, they began to simulate a new world in response, for there was no going back but they at least have a vision of what the past in the future looks like.
How can such power come from such weak creatures?
It is in the nature of the attack and their opponent. While the Right hunkered down inside of its conservatory, arranging laurels and flaunting rank which only impressed inside its walls, the Reductionists took the reins of academia and its monopoly on truth and broke it. The walls breached, the Right retreated further. The Reductionists took the media and its monopoly on the image, the symbolic, and broke it. The Right retreated further and quantified its faith in the almighty dollar, selling their birthright. Happy to do business, the Reductionists designed the narratives and therefore the realities of the century, and thereby the civilization, and broke it. The Right lay prostrate in their self-imposed ghetto, quarantined in a tiny empire of memory, while a brave new world was simulated around them.
But as civilization’s structures crumbled, the Left cried out with glee and then terror as they discovered they could not bear the burden of building or sustainment. You can see this. All narratives only exist to explain their failure and justify their fall. Barth forced himself on the reader in his Funhouse. Pointing at themselves with three fingers pointed back at everyone else, malevolent authors of books, culture and society could only relieve themselves of their self-awareness, their self-imposed guilt, by acknowledging it, desperately needing another’s validation; raping their recipients as punishment for their own inadequacies and self-hatred. A frenzied, writhing, hysterical bitching blob of malformation imparting its misery onto all whom it might infect, incapable of standing under its own weight. But, like our previous conceptions of God, we could only endure and watch it die, the tremors of its death-throes shaking our very existence. Samhain.
We, who were born knowing nothing else but stories of past greatness and opposition to the enemy, now exit the walls of our forefathers but see no sign of glories uncorrupted, undiminished; the fading illuminations of the past barely visibly as they settle under the horizon.
“Now this son whose father’s existence in this world is historical and speculative even before the son has entered it is in a bad way. All his life he carries before him the idol of a perfection to which he can never attain...No. The world which he inherits bears him false witness. He is broken before a frozen god and he will never find his way.”-Blood Meridian
But as Cthulhu turns Right, our tethers, our chains, our blinders are broken for we can no longer trust the stories of our fathers. We do not dare turn our unshackled eyes to the Heaven in thanks for we are not survivors but the First Men. Our stewardship is ours alone, no longer to enact tests of purity and destruction, but to manifest creation through the responsibility of benevolent will. Nietzschean Power meets Divine Love.
Where does such a task begin?
*The following is a transcription between myself and @mdvsn, a visual artist. It has been shared with his permission and edited for clarity:
MV: So the expansion of time through humanit(ies) is the framework for each ideological ghetto (yuga cycles). Ideas when first formed are light and agile, over time become bloated and heavy. It’s like gravity but for ideology. The mechanism to purge ideological epochs must, I think, have some correlation to ancient Greek Titans (12) and Vedic time cycles or Yugas (12). We are in the twelfth yuga and the twelfth titan is Cronos (time). So at the bottom of an ideological gravity well, everything stagnates and must be cast off.
MV: Everything in culture right now is time oriented: filters (anti aging) bitcoin (time chain), space travel (time vector) etc. So now I'm left thinking if Art must attempt to slay the titan, or die trying, and if the titan is time (Cronos) how does that influence my art?
PCM: So if we are to slay the titan of time then the art has to exist inside of the cycle and concept, because it too will have to eventually be weighed down to the point of irrelevance [this is the accomplishment of each cycle. As it becomes understood, it gives birth to the next] So if art is a product of manifestation, then once it's articulated and bloated our present then it has to direct the future.
MV: Or what I've been thinking, is it the power to debloat the will...Redemption, I mean.
PCM: So in the context of a cycle, by experiencing it and through its natural decline, then art is able to reduce it to the bare-bones which allows truth i.e. what is necessary and enduring to reveal itself in the next iteration?
MV: No, the 12th cycle is the END [emphasis mine], and the only way out is to renew. The Renaissance, Enlightenment, Futurism etc all were mechanisms to generate velocity, but empty in and of themselves. So I think the 12th cycle, our current age, is the only one not linear, cyclical and capable of redemption.
[I then shared an excerpt from my upcoming novella ‘Give Up the Ghost’, printed below]
It is no coincidence that mountain roads curve. Out here, drivers and other citizens of the mountain are forced to adhere to the contours of the Natural. Though God and ourselves saw fit to let us Master those contours at haulin-ass speeds, so that’s a blessing.
The temperature began to rise as he neared the valley floor. Mountains became hills became fields became pasture became farms became exit- and on-ramps. The curves and lulls of synthesis turning into the bulwark that are straight lines of speed and efficiency.
Wherever Mankind might be found in the form of Civilization, straight lines will abide. Straight lines don’t move. They exist as impositions of Divine Will and Stewardship, God’s hand working through ours to add to Nature what is not inherent; structure and meaning, purpose. Of course, even one’s Divinity must be renewed against the chaos of cycles, recontextualized within the entropies of time; one’s very own personalized Mandate of Heaven.
Modern man is the master of the line but hates the flatness of them, too unnatural, too much consideration for mortality, so we just keep building up, something bigger, something larger, hoping the horizon has to end sometime.
MV: That is it. This is the fallacy I see in Retvrn, it requires destructive intent, while what we would actually return to still lies all around us.
PCM: If the leftist i.e. deconstructive response was abstraction reduced to self expression then what does the right response look like?
MV: Gravity, I believe.
MV: It is the one thing that can bend time.
PCM: Holy shit. We are modeling the creation of the universe!
Do you see? DO YOU SEE!
The very nature of eternity leaves it subject to those who would define it!
This is the present task and duty of all writers and thinkers. We must construct the narratives that reveal the Divine in us. This is the universe revealing itself in you. Reject yourself as an imposition. Love what is good and natural. Authorial authority, whether of books or civilizations, is benevolent and divine. What we are experiencing cannot be understood by realism. Turn your eyes to what is unseen, to where all of nature portends our existence, and adore it for that fact.
It is no coincidence that “wokeness” started in literary theory. The Right dared not question, nor even touch their sacred narratives, never wanting to be responsible for their collapse. Sheep! Goats! But where the Left deconstructed down to a meta level, we reconstruct from it. This is how a civilization is born! Not in the homogenous blob of globalism and reductionism, but from a brotherhood of aristocratic souls born out of chaos, who would combine their efforts and will toward a singular purpose--their own interpretation of divinity--and demand it.
NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! We are no Gods! We have flaws. We are mortal! We are imperfect! We are in decline!
If Consciousness is to be God, then self-consciousness is to be the Devil.
Accept our human nature as the only thing beyond God’s and our hand. For if God cannot be imperfect, then he is not one of us. Relieve yourself of this anxiety of influence!
What has your guilt ever served Greatness?
Creation toward the Divine is God in us, and He must be found in the individual made manifest, expressed through the great man’s love and relationship with existence. To believe in Christ is to become Christ. Discriminatory Mastery as Divine Propellant. The sheer volume of humanitarian universalism and its myriad considerations are antithetical to Creation and to Greatness at large. Dignity is the only necessary morality. The Greeks. The Romans. The Christians. The British Empire. America. We. These are not amorphous blobs, slaves subjected to another or the silver linings of the past. All are oriented around their own gravitational pull, a singular definitive vision of themselves even within the context of history. Ours is a vitality derived from existence, not a reduction but a distillation. Embodiment! Expansion!
If we have been tasked with building the world in our own image, let that image be Divine. Let it be beyond mortality. Let it be beautiful. This is the way of all great civilizations. Of all great Men.
Alexander the Great, having arrived in Corinth to great affair and pageantry, did notice the absence of the philosopher Diogenes. Desiring his company, Alexander and his retinue made their way to the suburb where Diogenes was located and found him lying in the sun.
Standing over him, Alexander spoke, his armor glittering gloriously, the Sun itself haloing his head, “Can I get you something, Diogenes? Anything, for nothing is beyond my hand.”
Diogenes replied, "Yes, stand a little out of my light”.
Will the Men and Civilization who rise to such challenges only point back at the Divine, or will they become it
Follow P.C.M. on Twitter: @plzcallmechrist
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