infinite resignation
"It is not so with the knight of infinite resignation, he does not give up his love, not for all the glory of the world. He is no fool. First he makes sure that this really is the content of his life, and his soul is too healthy and too proud to squander the least thing upon an inebriation. He is not cowardly, he is not afraid of letting love creep into his most secret, his most hidden thoughts, to let it twine in innumerable coils about every ligament of his consciousness -- if the love becomes an unhappy love, he will never be able to tear himself loose from it. He feels a blissful rapture in letting love tingle through every nerve, and yet his soul is as solemn as that of the man who has drained the poisoned goblet and feels how the juice permeates every drop of blood -- for this instant is life and death. So when he has thus sucked into himself the whole of love and absorbed himself in it. he does not lack courage to make trial of everything and to venture everything. He surveys the situation of his life, he convokes the swift thoughts, which like tame doves obey his every bidding, he waves his wand over them, and they dart off in all directions. But when they all return, all as messengers of sorrow, and declare to him that it is an impossibility, then he becomes quiet, he dismisses them, he remains alone, and then he performs the movements."
"The infinite resignation is the last stage prior to faith, so that one who has not made this movement has not faith; for only in the infinite resignation do I become clear to myself with respect to my eternal validity, and only then can there be any question of grasping existence by virtue of faith."
Søren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling
"Once upon a time there was a woman, and she was wicked as wicked could be, and she died. And not one good deed was left behind her. The devils took her and threw her into the lake of fire. And her guardian angel stood thinking: what good dead of hers can I remember to tell God? Then he remembered and said to God: once she pulled up an onion and gave it to a beggar woman. And God answered: now take that same onion, hold it out to her in the lake, let her take hold of it, and pull, and if you pull her out of the lake, she can go to paradise, but if the onion breaks, she can stay where she is. The angel ran to the woman and held out the onion to her: here, woman, he said, take hold of it and I'll pull. And he began pulling carefully, and had almost pulled her all the way out, when other sinners in the lake saw her being pulled out and all began holding on to her so as to be pulled out with her. But the woman was wicked as wicked could be, and she began to kick them with her feet: 'It's me who's getting pulled out, not you; it's my onion, not yours.' No sooner did she say it than the onion broke. And the woman fell back into the lake and is burning there to this day. And the angle wept and went away."
Fydor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
I found out a couple of years ago that I didn't really posses any faith, at least not by Kierkegaard's standard. But I was pretty sure that I had found enough to resign myself infinitely. So I went off in a desolate place, centered myself and made my movements. Then I went out and got some scars to remind me that I was a human being and at the same time that I am so much more. I get to wear these scars every day - they are there to remind me.
As it turns out, forgetting has never been a problem. In fact, this creature has made me like a stone - stuck in a moment, neverending. I've found it an impossibility to turn away from the ideas that I married those years ago, and it's gotten to a point that I despise that which I worhship. I despise the ideas because they have trapped me here. Here in this cell of my own creation I have no means of escape, not a single moment that is free of this haunting.
Now don't get me wrong -- I don't always want to run and hide. The ideas that my infinite resignation reside in are the things in life that bring both joy and pain. And I really do think that I can find contentment here, somewhere among the demons.
I don't know. . .I'm being impatient and inconsiderate and selfish right now. I just need to stop.
-d.
"The infinite resignation is the last stage prior to faith, so that one who has not made this movement has not faith; for only in the infinite resignation do I become clear to myself with respect to my eternal validity, and only then can there be any question of grasping existence by virtue of faith."
Søren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling
"Once upon a time there was a woman, and she was wicked as wicked could be, and she died. And not one good deed was left behind her. The devils took her and threw her into the lake of fire. And her guardian angel stood thinking: what good dead of hers can I remember to tell God? Then he remembered and said to God: once she pulled up an onion and gave it to a beggar woman. And God answered: now take that same onion, hold it out to her in the lake, let her take hold of it, and pull, and if you pull her out of the lake, she can go to paradise, but if the onion breaks, she can stay where she is. The angel ran to the woman and held out the onion to her: here, woman, he said, take hold of it and I'll pull. And he began pulling carefully, and had almost pulled her all the way out, when other sinners in the lake saw her being pulled out and all began holding on to her so as to be pulled out with her. But the woman was wicked as wicked could be, and she began to kick them with her feet: 'It's me who's getting pulled out, not you; it's my onion, not yours.' No sooner did she say it than the onion broke. And the woman fell back into the lake and is burning there to this day. And the angle wept and went away."
Fydor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
I found out a couple of years ago that I didn't really posses any faith, at least not by Kierkegaard's standard. But I was pretty sure that I had found enough to resign myself infinitely. So I went off in a desolate place, centered myself and made my movements. Then I went out and got some scars to remind me that I was a human being and at the same time that I am so much more. I get to wear these scars every day - they are there to remind me.
As it turns out, forgetting has never been a problem. In fact, this creature has made me like a stone - stuck in a moment, neverending. I've found it an impossibility to turn away from the ideas that I married those years ago, and it's gotten to a point that I despise that which I worhship. I despise the ideas because they have trapped me here. Here in this cell of my own creation I have no means of escape, not a single moment that is free of this haunting.
Now don't get me wrong -- I don't always want to run and hide. The ideas that my infinite resignation reside in are the things in life that bring both joy and pain. And I really do think that I can find contentment here, somewhere among the demons.
I don't know. . .I'm being impatient and inconsiderate and selfish right now. I just need to stop.
-d.
posted by taliendo at
5:45 PM
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