Archive for April 2010

The Love That Needs No Words

On this planet we humans call Earth, there is, as Sophocles wrote [1], much that is strange, but nothing has more strangeness than we human beings, for we are capable of such honour, such heroism, such compassion, and yet we also do and have done so many deeds of dishonour, possess so much hubris, and have been the cause of so much suffering, so many killings, so much destruction and disruption of the numinous, millennia after millennia.

In addition, we so often delude ourselves or lie to ourselves or make excuses for ourselves: for our dishonour, for our hubris, for our lack of empathy and compassion.

Can we as a species survive? Do we even deserve to survive, given our profanity, our destruction of  Life, of Nature: of She who gave us birth and who keeps us alive and who can keep us balanced between our honour and our dishonour? Keep us balanced – if only we could live in the correct way: with empathy, compassion, honour and a shared personal love, where we feel and know ourselves as but one nexion, one connexion, among many, on this planet, in the Cosmos, and where we have a real, a living, bond with the very land itself which sustains us; where our needs are simple because our desires are restrained through our abandonment of abstractions, and through our knowledge of ourselves and of how easy, how very easy, it is to cause suffering.

Our human truth is that it is not right to give names to some things or some deeds or some thoughts; it is un-numinous to try and describe or categorize some experience by some term or some abstraction; it is incorrect to manufacture some theory, in some poor attempt to place such terms in some alleged causal context.

One of our many human problems – one of the great problems of our modern ways of life – is that there is too much noise, especially the noise of and from words, spoken, read and thought. Far far too many words spoken; far too much speaking, too little silent, interior, reflexion, especially among the natural peace of Nature where we can sense and know again in our stillness the acausal Time of the Cosmos.

For wisdom is not to be found in speeches, nor in some political or social manifesto, tracts or books; nor in some political, religious, or social, theory or dogma. And especially not in some abstraction, some ideal.

Rather, wisdom is there to be discovered, within ourselves – others can only gently point or guide us toward this self-discovery, toward the necessary interior, quiet, reflexion – perhaps through some work of Art, or some sublime piece of music, some poignant literature; perhaps some poem; or perhaps by some noble deed done or some selfless personal love that needs no words to speak or advertise its wordless name.

David Myatt

[1] πολλὰ τὰ δεινὰ κοὐδὲν ἀνθρώπου δεινότερον πέλει