the underworld is wasted on the dead
one thing i think Dante forgot to mention is that nobody leaves the underworld without some sort of mark on the body, whether it be a scar, bullet wound or something of the sort. but that is for those who make it through psychologically and spiritually. 99% give up before making it to the mark.
it is one thing to enter the underworld, quite another ball game to be born in it
the underworld is a hell unto itself, and a heaven unto itself, it is a cultural compulsion, and thus cannot be helped. especially among peoples with a strong culture (or a strong lack thereof).
the implications of it being âunderâ or lately, the general associa$$tion of the term with gangs, cults, secret societies and the adjacent stereotypical darkness - lust, crime, drugs etc - give it a more than serious facade or #narrative, but its darkness neednât be taken seriously at all. for the same principles that apply the âoverworldâ, apply here.
A normative proof of this congruity is the lietmotif of journeys, pilgrimages, etc. This is true for most civilized cultures.
By civilisation i mean any sentience that co-operates. A civilisation may be many-cultured or mono-cultured, that is quite another essay though.
it is a pity to assume, as is often the reductive logic of late capitalism, to emphasize on economy, or human activity as the connecting link (or driving energy) between the two worlds, however karma has nothing to do with either. two mirrors reflect each other in vaccum as well. karma is simply cognition, everything else is a by-product, biological excreta of conscious processes, something i call #narrative.
to assume that the world exists out of human intervention or because of consciousness alone is to deny science its due.
consciousness and its material ramifications are very much part of the same quantum soup.
it is the case that the reflection of anything isnât the thing itself. like noumenon and phenomenon in traditional philosophy,the overworld and underworld are reflections of each other - they interface through every medium available to them and on rare occasions new mediums are born out of this interface,perpetuating the dialectical march at the very edge of history.
however, this difference between substance and ideal IS a difference in perception, hence varies with subjectivity.
i can go so far as to claim that it is perhaps the only difference between not only two perceptions but also between perception as a noumenon and âselfâ or âegoâ as its phenomenal implementation.
albeit to invoke qualia entails a regression into ad-infinitum type fallacies.
if causation appears to precede qualia in the overworld, the same is true for any mind altering cult or psy-ops excercise you might find yourself in the thick of. Dante lived to tell the tale because he understood this much.
at the horizon, they always appear to be meeting, but somehow manage to never quite do so.
in simpler words, it is horizons all the way down. what appeared to Dante as the 9 circles are actually infinity-1 and they extend on either side of the manifest (traditionally called substance).
if then the two worlds are reflections of each other, the relational difference between them is one of simple opposition and mutual invertedness.
when mystical people make ado about âevil eyeâ, they generally refer to the underworld, or its domain or influence on another. in practical terms, beyond mere human jealousy, any âeyeâ is necessarily and precisely as evil as what it sees/records, albeit in inverted terms.
adjectives arenât for cameras alone, nor are people in heaven any less miserable, eggshells are sometimes worth more than the yoke.
If photography is the highest form of alienation, it is because the subject that invented it was alienated in the first place.
it isnât much of a strech of the imagination to believe the earth to be an underworld of which there is an overworld, just as the planet itself has an underworld (or rather underworlds) of its own - the primacy of such an overworld is asserted by most religions.
it is a bit of a stretch to imagine the essence of substance to be a photograph of horizons at sunset ad-reductio-infinitum.
at the core of this recursively diminishing sandwich is the pearl of sentience, unreachable by most humans and all lower lifeforms. this pearl generally referred to as âenlightenmentâ is a state of cognition in which both heaven and hell are beheld at the same time.
enlightenment isnât an event in time, but an atemporal interface like the breath between lovers in an ancient lore, like the lack of Bach in any transcription, however soulful and precise. PI canât quite be arrived at, a general idea must suffice. All art is but approximation.
it is a trancendence, a dislodging from - good and evil, a vertical breaking away from the horizontal. like discovering an axis on a plane hidden with imperative efficiency - like Poeâs Purloined letter.
nobody that finds this axis ever does so by accident, but if you are born on the edge of history, it surely helps, for enlightenment is also an edge of sorts, it is the edge of ahistory - the unrecorded movement of time - in either direction.
those that gain satori, often have a strong anchoring of the precise moment that they gained satori, Murakami was at a baseball game, Buddha under a tree, someone was doing the dishes etc. and they can often recall with great detail, the time and place. beyond this, this disease-within-disease is uncommunicable.
there are enlightened beings and divinity even in hell, this is the point of Satan. coming alive isnât the prowess of energy alone, there might be entire planets ruled and populated by the undead, but just because you have access to a door doesnât mean it is to be opened.
the underworld is a real reflection of hell. which is a purely virtual construct and so on.
the real/virtual dichotomy isnât a part of the real/imaginary dichotomy, or the real/symbolic binary.
there is thus a trinity of binary relations for existence (real/virtual, real/imaginary and the real/symbolic)
enlightenment is the recognition of the unity within this trinity, without which neither may exist, thus real/real, symbolic/symbolic and virtual/virtual, which forms a higher and abstracted trinity of itâs own.
the case is that once you witness this higher, abstracted three-sided nature of power, you can never go back.
bearing witness to this is akin to looking at source of subjective information, which is essentially mere sense data
how sense data becomes information that then becomes self or ego is through these trinities, not unlike light passing through a prism making a rainbow.
to the person that never has seen the rainbow, it may appear as if someone had barfed all over a unity and ruined perfection
the underworld can be understood as an unreal or surreal nexus, like Bushâs âaxis of evilâ, it is a composite, an admixture of sorts, and this composite can be clothed in a plurality of equally unreal metaphors, i came to understand the underworld that enveloped me (or the one i traversed through), for example, as a crossroads or an intersection where wall street meets little rock, ak. that isnât much by way of a description, but it paints a picture, so you can have some idea of the life i (and my family by extension) lived and what i went through. the point is, when it rains it pours, adversity of any sort never comes alone.
it took me the first 33-34 years to figure out just where exactly i was. but thatâs half the battle, an accurate assessment of your location on this spiritual plane will allow you to see things with more clarity
make no mistake, anyone in the underworld is automatically a pilgrim, a more visceral exposition of the spiritual basis of existence isnât possible
understand that nobody puts another in the underworld, nor can you actually enter it by seeking it - you may be born in it like i was, or you may enter it by stroke of sheer happenstance
not all gangsters/spies/cult members etc are in the underworld in the same manner as the chinese donât eat chinese food, to them it is simply food. no it is the very thrownness/Geworfenheit of the human condition that leads a select few through this pilgrimage. stated differently, the underworld neednât necessarily be the world of crime and corruption it is commonly associated with, you might well be a bank teller and go through this shadow region.
The concept of the âdark night of the soulâ has a close mapping to journeys taken through the shadow world, albeit a spiritually restrictive one
an âaudienceâ with whatever religious people call âgodâ is almost guaranteed for successful pilgrims, i was fortunate enough to be one of those.
this does not, however mean that if you emulate my pilgrimage you will end up in the same position as me, you might, but there is no guarantee of this, there is a leap of faith involved in both worlds
consider the underworld as a spatial coefficient, or metaphorical corollary, to any existenially mortifying temporal label, e.g. âdark night of the soulâ.
it is a mythical place where no one can hear you scream, the realm of âno otherâ, a place where death and debt are trapped in a naval gazing competition until flesh and bone become one. here egos stand in threatening glory while superegos penetrate through narratives hitherto considered closed to inquiry.
here desire loops on itself and many a criminal and/or philosopher is born. here the uncorrupt are corrupted and the corrupt are absolved, by virtue of irreason.
shaped like an onion, the underworld is layered and dense as a maze in the desert.
jokers define its thresholds as they traverse it, their trails the only source of natural light in any primordial darkness.
the underworld is a perpetually drunken layer of any human society, and the only way out is through
the only priviledge of being in the underworld, the only solace is the exclusivity, but if you find it at all glamourous, youâre not a pilgrim yet
regardless at which age you enter it, the underworld feels the same
here self-interest strips to reveal seld-destructive dreams and taboo and fantasy travel through the zeitgeist like electricity
here the jokes get funnier, raunchier
itâs the substratum, the subtext and context which feeds the masses, it is the worldâs own amoral sandbox, a playground for the past, prersent and future of capital, and itâs not reserved for the rich alone
here everything is death and life becomes but a reminder and every day an adventure into new reminders
only a few who discern bear witness to its machinations
being here is no different than being under trial for supernatural crimes