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Alexander Solzhenitsyn on America and the West

Originally posted on Thoughts En Route:

Wow. My thanks to MK for passing along to me a link to a speech given by famous Soviet dissident Alexander Solzhenitsyn on June 8, 1978, to graduates at Harvard. His recent death (last Sunday) has placed his name in the headlines once again, but his insightful comments and harsh “tough love” warnings about the direction the West is heading should be considered required reading by those who care about the state of civilization.

Here is a link to the text of the speech, which includes options to listen to the speech (a downloadable MP3 file, and two different embedded audio players) and PDF and Flash documents of the text for downloading:

Alexander Solzhenitsyn: A World Split Apart

It would be almost impossible to pick a favorite quote out of such a long, significant, well-crafted speech. But here are two that caught my eye…

“I have spent all my life…

View original 503 more words

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A Prayer

Satanic blessings, brethren, who
accompany me along this path, 
less traveled; illumined 
by His tenebrous light. 

From chaos born, 
our Prince of Air; 
beware, His might, and so align 
our Will with His,
embraced, at last, upon this night, 
His world now our dominion. 

Maligned, mine enemies, quite contrite,
shall reap what they’ve sown; damned sheep–
Sweet slaughter awaits them so, 
in a great heap thrown. 
To my delight, the shepherd, at last, 
has lost all. Listen! 
They bleat no more.Image

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Sneaking in and out of people’s lives wreaking havoc all along the way.

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Peekaboo!

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Paranoid Meditations

Dear Friends, Hope everyone is well.

I have been thinking about leaving facebook for a couple of reasons. 1) There are just too many apps and I don’t feel comfortable having all my thoughts, opinions, comments, behaviors and internet activity being monitored either for marketing or for creepier Big Brother considerations, a police state which unfortunately is becoming increasingly real. If I am paranoid, fine. I hope I’m wrong. 2) You can’t say what you want anyway, because we exist in the realm of political correctness, and God forbid you should say something that could offend someone somewhere (a likely thing with 500 million FB users.) 3) I have this nasty feeling that one day there will be a headline talking about the obvious spying that goes on. And yeah, I know if you’re doing nothing wrong you have nothing to worry about. But how can you be sure things can’t be twisted, etc. What about the future? Does anyone else have similar concerns? I mean if you like “Occupy Wall Street” or whatever else, will that flag you for possible investigation?
4) Last, all this networking…is FB to become one vast resume where we exploit each other for contacts and recommendations, etc? So what to do? Keep things up close and personal, and post the occasional idiocy, or think of all of this as a personal ad campaign like I’m running for office or something. Or the hell with it all together. What do you think? Because if you do “think” about it, maybe we could dignify what it is we do here. I mean look at what happened in the Middle East.

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In Memoriam

Thursday the 27th of February, 2009

Only a few days ago, Thursday the 27th of February, 2009, it occurred to me that perhaps I was a dead man; that I was already in hell. After all, I felt no soul within me, and all the discussions about the nature of the soul and mind had left, to say the least, confused. These were only so many ratchets, in the Darwinian sense, as it were.

Fifteen years earlier I saw my father’s corpse on the bier, after the wake, at the burial. It was in the coffin. Was this him? No, it was not; but merely the shell of the man—a body—whose possible soul had departed. The anima was gone. But where had it gone? Did it ever exist? I struggled with this question as I knelt down and paid my respects sorrowfully to this thing, this object? What as it, you ask? Death embodied; made manifest.

I remember reading The Tibetan Book of the Dead, having long abandoned any Christian perspective of comprehending the world or the condition humaine—and imaging his soul gradually realizing that David—the body—was gone, as the “soul” underwent its torments of icy hell commensurate with karmic ripening and reaping, as it were, what his ego-self sowed and his attendant attachment thereof, descending, as it were, through the various stages, six in all, of the consciousness the proceeds “bodily” death and transforms as it realizes its “true” state. Did any of this comfort me? Not really. I felt that nothing was really taking place at all. Only that one moment he was there and that the next he was not. That was impacted me most acutely; this extremely visceral confrontation—not with my father—but with death itself in the form, made manifest, as it were, in the corpse that had been my father. And yet people were still referring to “him”—an it—now a referent that existed in the realm of memory and our own minds, whatever that was, which were in the world—to him—who was not. How is such a state of affairs possible?

I was already in hell. After all, I felt no soul within me, and all the discussions about the nature of the soul and mind had left, to say the least, confused. These were only so many ratchets, in the Darwinian sense, as it were.

Fifteen years earlier I saw my father’s corpse on the bier, after the wake, at the burial. It was in the coffin. Was this him? No, it was not; but merely the shell of the man—a body—whose possible soul had departed. The anima was gone. But where had it gone? Did it ever exist? I struggled with this question as I knelt down and paid my respects sorrowfully to this thing, this object? What as it, you ask? Death embodied; made manifest.

 

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