Page 10, The Excavation of Its Future Memory

Try to attempt a definition what love is.

Love at first sight only exists in the history of its survivors.

“What you feel before you feel something you’ve never felt before.”

Philosophy as the practice of the wisdom of love, as the fearless encounter with an opening beyond.  We can only live what we are unable to perceive.  There is no end.  Sorry to break it to you.  Certain traditions may perish, we are certainly at the end of our rope in considering merely the application of sight as the path to Knowledge, oops.  Without crop rotation, fields once rich become depleted.  That is not, I repeat not to say we should never plant soy beans again.  Just not every spring.  Knowledge is practice.  But again!  The polemic drawn here is not the contradiction against knowledge as accumulated pieces of somesuch.  the polemic attempted is against the very impossibility in a certain framework that both can’t be true.  And yet we let photons be more than one thing and expect the product of their illumination to reduce the complications instead of 1) remain as complicated as they are (whether we yet understand the depth of said complications) or 2) to increase the complications as long as deep as wide as long.

our minds do so much work to adjust the world so that it makes sense, so we can move in space, understand our orientation to said space, and interact.  It makes invisible the frames, a courtesy, really.  It does not demand our ignorance.  Spin around fifty times real fast.  Many of the experiments we engage with that push the boundaries of our invisible sensory framework are fun.  Probably for good reason.

Philosophy is a practice that yield concepts.  But not unlike farming, the crops must be harvested.  There is no point to a farmer who plants without reaping.  And of course, the spoils move on — with or without heavy processing, exportation, exploitation.  We can mention theory at this point, the lovely cook.