Hey, theres some experience.

‘My stomach went outside of my shirts ability to cover it and started drooping,’ said a random fat person. Somehow, I think they missed the point. But, won’t they ever be glad when they find their feet again?

A life full of experiences rich in qualitative diversity is worth more than a life of pleasure and pure bliss but qualitatively monotonous.

A life of pleasure and pure bliss is an unobtainable. The best that can be measured and gained still can not be had without qualitative diversity AND the lack of it at times. Without Monotony OR the inverse, where the monotony becomes un-monotonous. Or, where monotony can not be measured and only epic is; at least until the epic becomes monotonous.

Epic isn’t the same as joy. Epic is like ten shots of Jaeger in five minutes, joy is like a fine wine in the evening sun shared with some woman or god of nature.

We mature into joy. I hate to say it, but Im starting to find out that its true. Life does get better. For those that work on the world incessantly. We are rewarded with a toughness of the spirit, deliberate to take only value as reality, deeply based in favour of existence, drawing joy from its own constant justification of said existence.

Existence suffers us. Not the other way around.

I can confirm that the two people I knew that never left their house were the most miserable people Ive known. One sister kept the other from moving to the French Pyrenees and live in total freedom with a lover for fear she might fall and die. So they both lived on each others lips in a mouldy house, the potentially happy one got Alzheimers and died mercifully, the one who had prevented her sisters life got cancer and died surrounded by sick cats.

Then we moved into that house.
Shit went very, very very wrong with everybody. All terrains, life, love, sex, science, demons crept into it like emerald ash borers into the soul of the world.
Thank god they let me put it on the market. I sold it for a million dollars. Its a fucking nice house if you don’t know the people that died there.

“Fuck Buddha” is what I hear you saying.

It depends. There is things to be said about mystical travel to the inside sealed in

I’ve always had one foot in the clouds and another on the ground. I think if I somehow attained enlightenment, I’d realise immediately why I was asleep all this time and come back down to Earth.

Glad you understand that.

Thats my thinking, and experience.

I don’t know why someone would imagine enlightenment to lead to a want to leave this Earth. Its the saddest, dumbest concept around. And its popular too.

Enlightenment means that one stops refusing to exist. Yeah sitting under a tree can be pretty awesome. But so can owning a castle in Italy and cultivating the waving fields. Renunciation of the material is only useful if one owns filth or owns in a filthy way. I guess Prince Siddharta must have felt pretty filthy.

Nietzsche observes that all of Buddhism is simply the work of not feeling physically unclean inside. This is the truth. It is thus ultimately a means to the Earth - a discipline to allow a human being to be in the region of health as animals and plants.

So Buddhism is the preparatory work for occupying the very lowest platform in Earthly life: acceptance of life as good. Before they can make this commitment, many people have to go through decades of physical purification.

To me, the value of enlightenment is the ability and wisdom to know when and how to let go of attachments. It doesn’t mean that one retires to a monastery–it’s pretty easy to stay detached from things when there isn’t anything around to be attached to–but that one learns to move from experience to experience, to never stay put–or addicted–to one strain of experience for one’s whole life–to move about and gain as wide a repertoire of different experience as one can. Yes, it would be pretty awesome to own a castle, but it would be more awesome to own a castle at one point in one’s life and to be a destitute bum at another. At the end of his life, who has the better tale to tell: the prince, or the prince who became a bum?

Every go to the Genius forums? It’s a community of psychopaths.

Apparently, Star Wars is a film “too cute” for them. Apparently, a film about war is too “cute”.

I know what you are experienced in, and it involves togas and buttsex

Reminds me of the documentary Grey Gardens, if you have not seen it, I believe it is a MUST. A sneak preview to get you going.

youtu.be/CEKWeWL7cJQ

Hmm… one wonders how you know that, Auty.

I agree to an extent. The reverse argument can also be made, that to attain depth of experience, you have to stick with one strain of it for a long time.

The bum who became a prince.

Heh. Yeah, its a real mystery. A penny for his browser history.

The same way you know that I know it. You read a post.

Ah yes, depth-first vs. breadth-first ← Which is better? It all depends on the situation I suppose, and on finding balance. It’s funny. These are actually software terms just as much as they are psychological terms. We software developers sometimes have to decide on the better of two algorithms to implement in order to solve data sorting or searching problems. Do you want to search each branch of the tree to its depths (right to the very leaves) before moving onto the next branch, or do you want to search the entire tree in its full breadth, exploring each branch simultaneously? The advtange of the former is that it’s quicker (assuming you know what you’re looking for). The advantage of the latter is that you cover more in the end. The latter takes a while, but in the end you’ve covered the entire tree.

But then again, it all depends on if the branches indeed have ends–or whether they’re like Nieztsche’s Abyss–endless–in which case the depth-first searcher will always be ahead of the breadth-first searcher. Yet, given enough time, the breadth first searcher will always be able to catch up to the spot where the depth first searcher once was at, and have covered the entire tree at least up to that point.

I find that with a mind like mine (ADD), I’m way more partial to the breadth-first approach. Focusing on just one thing in depth for a lengthy period of time can be excruciating for me. But that’s not to say it can’t happen–not with things I’m passionate about–but yeah, in general, my mind likes to jump from one thing to another and never sit still for too long.

I suppose it depends on what kind of drama you want: one of struggle and striumph, or one of tragedy and despair. ← Either way, as long as you have gripping story to tell…

^ Anything’s better than monotony (tongue in cheek).

Auty, are you closet case Jew who’s trying to come to grips with his repressed homosexuality?

^ I’m just saying, your extremism kinda strikes me as a case of Freud’s “reaction formation”.

No fucking doubts hes a ninny. Look at his inclinations, and what he says about the male and female bodies.

Like CN, who was literally only on this board to lurk for male fantasy objects. The very day I showed a somewhat sexual picture of myself with a girl, he left and was never seen again. Which is why I showed that picture. The attention I got from CN was disgusting, like Auties fucking gayparade picture in his signature is so god damned obvious… but people in the closet really are in the dark.

Certainly the poor guy lacks all the subtlety and self-observing that could point to Jewish traces.

true, to an extent. Prolonged epic has some decent effects, though, if you keep pushing through where it dries up from the receptors of your brains frying themselves out too quickly and get to where they start outputting again. Through epic to where the simple and mundane become epic again for the sheer lack of epicness attached and still attached, but a return to ‘simple’ thinking and ‘simple’ things, which breeds joy throughout a variety of means. There is joy to be found in bloodshed, found in the twisted slaughter of the ‘innocents’, or in the torture of a victim; playing with prey in a hunters game or on the receiving end in the sheer experience of the emotions felt. To think of joy as just what we ascribe the word to is akin to thinking that love is merely the strong passion we see in romance and action adventure movies. What is it when it’s cold or distant or seemingly not there at all when you’re at each others throats and want nothing to do with each other at the time but can’t seem to walk away; or, even if you do walk away from each other? Still love, base and platonic and again and again possible of flaring back up.

There is joy to be found in the experience of even the things we don’t like, for it being fresh or for making us feel a certain way, uniqueness to learning lessons to simple being involved in things around us.

And then the monotony of a life time, lived and eked out second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year, decade by decade, to the end of our days as it stretches from both quick to slow and slow to quick where time can stretch out to an eternity in bad form such as waiting for the bell to ring to get out of class at school when you’d rather be free doing anything other than being where you are, to where eternity stretches out in a moment or two of good feelings and enjoyment, treasured and appreciated all the more for it, though appreciation can be found and metered even without having experienced the other. Joy, for some is in the knowing and analyzing and thinking of these things while joy for others is in other things and all enjoy learning to the point of mixed metaphors, etc., etc., etc.

It is impossible to define joy in simple terms other than accepting the base societal interpretation of the vibrant joy and working out the rest from there upon occasion.