Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Breaking away from the he(a)rd.

Most people are too lethargic to break away from the "heard". It isn't just your fellow citizens. Hiding behind customs and opinions is the easier way. Introspective knowledge is always harder to obtain. With modern life being so engaging and hectic, people hardly have time to form opinions away from the media, "hear say" (a.k.a " the heard") and cultural beliefs (a.k.a the herd).

In many cases people have in fact started to "believe in believing" rather than letting the belief convince them. Transubstantiation in Christianity is one such instance that I can think of in the west . It's moral relativism at work really; that is to say that a persons morality is relative to their surrounding. It is rarer that people recognize the nature of morals and come out slightly more informed about why people act like ignoramuses.

A lot of people imagine that it is impossible and impractical to be a relativist- but this is short sighted- it is in fact easier than being a "preference utilitarian"( a moral position that considers all things pleasurable to the self worth cherishing and all else worth diminishing). Relativism is by default our morality. Especially since according to relativism there are no right or wrong morals but simply relative ones; making all other moral beliefs sub-moral.

1 comment:

  1. Colorless

    Who am i?

    the narrator of a story searching a conclusion;

    a man who seems to be free yet possessed

    of his own possessions, of a rhetoric bound

    by process of which, might myself feel enriched

    swaying in the consciousness of the complete

    engulfed in the parameters of flesh and blood

    of such skin so temporary and such life, might I,

    sail through a sea of thoughts, scheming

    possessions my possessions find me possessed

    to the secure castle of my own, I must

    narrate a story of time and its inconsideration

    towards a budding little flower in a storm

    I must

    Find security of my thoughtfulness in the story

    Of the despair of a blooming flower in the storm

    Creations! I must speak to myself of which

    I survive

    Who am I?

    A humble narrator to the questions of life

    A couscous bloke, experiencing through a tint

    Of glass that must help form a story

    Of situations must I realize my place

    My sympathies, what an unfortunate state

    So who might I be?

    The one behind, in centre or a product of

    A story worthily told to secure the egotism

    Of the temporary circus staged skillfully

    By temporary thoughts for a temporary self

    Must I be such a narrator oblivious to my own self

    Be a possessive partner of the very self

    I create

    Longing for misery to motivate the arrogance

    of an apprehensive oaf

    in apprehension of himself projecting and screening

    Through tinted glass for a view so myopic

    that must identify a self separate, cornered, singled


    Of such narration my friends who must I be?

    A craft fully designed centre piece

    of an over crowded room of thoughts, eagerly calculating

    the worth of temporary possessions

    what must an experience be for such lousy limitation?

    Of the objectification of an ever changing process

    And its beauty of spirited motion

    I realize I am

    Not much, but a possession myself

    I realize I am

    An accumulation of

    A picture of..

    A narration of..

    Objectified in..

    Limited with..

    A mere thing..

    Lustfully my own

    I realize I am

    Pale, yellow, white

    I realize I am, colorless