“These… evil (and subtle) delights… never end.”
Shakespeare said: “These violent delights have violent ends”
My phrase is merely the dark twist to the Juliet’s warning to Rome, right after their first kiss 🔥
It does not explode like the adolescent passion of Romeo and Juliet.
It simply persists, like a flavor that at first is delicious, and then you realize you can no longer live without it…
Epicurus’ hedonistic calculus, his cold mathematical evaluation of the soul, aesthetic or kinetic pleasures (maximum pleasure, no pain).
Knowing it only raises the stakes in ready minds.
The dealer does not bluff 😏
Oh, the fervent devotion to independence; visceral rejection of norms that bind the spirit to the emotional, like an invisible prison.
Then the wonder of thinking is that there is always more—a philosopher proposes an idea, documents it, and someone else arrives with other ideas… a whisper in your mind, and you pretend to listen or not 😉
Diogenes and company spent their lives rejecting social conventions as prisons, including the emotional; they did not allow dependence on the applause of others. It was a fierce devotion to independence: “I am free because nothing binds me, not even what I ‘should’ feel.”
Epictetus said “It is not things themselves that disturb people, but their judgments about them.”
I think you’re not hooked by the delight itself, but what you decide it means.
The high is in the mind 😏
I say it is the label that disturbs, because once you know its meaning, it ceases to have intention—I believe the unconscious operates in the pre-linguistic (and this from someone who handles 6 languages).
It moves in symbols, in unwritten codes, in the space between what is not yet and what is supposed to be.
Real poetry never makes it onto paper ❤️🔥
Jung said we are self & ego.
But he also said: “The self is not only the centre, but also the whole circumference which embraces both conscious and unconscious; it is the centre of this totality, just as the ego is the centre of consciousness.” (Psychology and Alchemy, CW12).
I say that the self is the centre of the unconscious, and that after passing the superficial ego (not the one of your value but the one of applause—that social mask), after that is the threshold; once you ditch the fake smile you enter the subconscious.
And this would mean seeing the action in real time of your body and consciousness when it enters default state—that is, seeing it in its first thought (body: needs), then seeing it in the contemplative thought (the one that thinks about why it thought of the need), and surpassing the third state, which is conscious action.
Let me put it simply:
Superficial ego = the social mask, dull ache.
Threshold = you leave behind external validation, the prison of normal emotions and social norms.
Deep ego = centre of real consciousness, not the pose, still conscious but without so much noise.
Self as centre of the unconscious = personal + collective, archetypes, un-faced shadows, the whisper I mentioned before.
In summary, the true “self” is not after enlightened consciousness (the awakened), but in the centre of the unconscious abyss.
This week I read this text:
“When a woman begins to awaken from the ancient spell that binds her to the idea of marriage, she enters a threshold both luminous and terrifying. It is not rebellion against love, nor a disdain for union, but the first tremor of consciousness that whispers: you were not born to belong to another, you were born to your own soul.
For millennia the feminine psyche has been woven into the archetype of the bride, the one who waits, who yearns to be chosen, who measures her worth by the gaze of another. Yet beneath the soft image lies a hidden grief, the grief of the spirit that has mistaken captivity for connection. Marriage in its sacred origin was never meant to be a prison; it was a ritual enactment.”
Personally, I never chase men—I mean, I never got the label of the bride archetype, I don’t want it. But also I’m not against it. If it happens—happen, but not because I forced it. I prefer to think that there exists something in the middle, more real; that’s what I really want.
You know, I’m just too honest for fairy tales 🥱
Choosing not to play the romantic-access card means I absorb that loneliness raw. And yes, it hurts twice because society still whispers that a “real” woman would secure a protector/provider to smooth the path.
I refuse to anesthesia even if feels like rebellion… but if it is, maybe it’s rebellion without applause.
I mean, I’m not doing it for the story, it’s just because the story bores me—too much of the same 😮💨
Descartes’ sharp mind-body split.
The Cartesian cut is not casual; I bring it to the table with intention.
The mind—res cogitans—is pure thought.
Unextended. Non-spatial but immortal in potential.
And the body—res extensa—is pure extension, mechanical matter, governed by physical laws.
Two distinct substances, like two tracks on a cassette that never quite touch… except, maybe that midpoint was in “pineal gland”, according with Descartes.
That gap— cogito ergo sum— is born from there: “I can doubt everything, even my body, but not that I am doubting”… at this point the mind proves itself to itself as independent.
I do not believe in the half-orange theory; if we must choose between fruit metaphors, I want to be the cherry on top—that which makes a perfect masterpiece even better.
And that “if it happens, it happens” is not conformism—it is sovereignty. I will not force a union to fill a void that does not exist.
I would never choose to be the cherry on a cake from scratch; I choose the cake I will eat. I am not the cook—I am the diner.
I am a perfect final detail 💋
Knowing my value (myself) does not make me support feminism; it makes me aware that even though I am more bound as a woman by the Cartesian cut of the body, nevertheless his dualism validates that “the mind has no sex.”
I say that even when we have been bound to our emotions, it has been because we were never trained to see the emotion and control our behavior in the face of it.
Me? Haha 😄
I was lucky to be raised by a military pappa—he was the one who trained me, and I only share my vision with you.
The devil side maybe resides inside us, but you can decide. And that is where the devil lives. Not in your choices—but in the thrill of choosing 😈
No tidy conclusions here, just the shared vertigo of being awake enough to notice the vertigo.
Bye now! 💋
