Stark Reality Quotes

If you’re scared, tell me. If you need to cry and scream, then do it. And you sure as hell don’t walk away from us because you think it would be better for me. Here’s the reality, Echo: I want to be by your side. If you want to go to the mall stark naked so you can show the world your scars, then let me hold your hand. If you want to see your mom, then tell me that too. I may not always understand, but damn, baby, I’ll try.

I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your un-dumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it would lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is just really a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become. I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any the more by giving myself away like this —But oh my dear, I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defences. And I don’t really resent it.

I don't want you to have to handle it. That's the horror of my past. But you...you're the reality of my present. You're the proof I survived. The prize in the cereal box.

What you end up experiencing is really a personal presentation of the world according to you, rather than the stark, unfiltered experience of what is really out there. This mental manipulation of the outer experience allows you to buffer reality as it comes in.

For me, the imagination which so often kept me awake and in terror as a child has seen me through some terrible bouts of stark raving reality as an adult.

You scared the shit out of me last night, so forgive me if I don't want to hear fine as an answer." I rubbed my eyes, hoping it would keep the burning tears away. The warm water of the shower had finally calmed the tears, but the thought of Noah walking away brought them back. "What do you want to hear? That I'm exhausted? Terrified? Confused? That all I want to do is rest my head on your chest and sleep for hours, but that's not going to happen because you're leaving me?" "Yes," he said quickly, then just as quick said, "No. Everything but the last part." He paused. "Echo, how could you think I would leave you? How can you doubt how I feel?" "Because," I said as I felt the familiar twisting in my stomach. "You saw me lose it. You saw me almost go insane." The muscles in his shoulders visibly tensed. "I watched you battle against the worst memory of your life and I watched you win. Make no mistake, Echo. I battled right beside you. You need to find some trust in me ... in us." Noah inhaled and slowly let the air out. His stance softened and so did his voice. "If you're scared, tell me. If you need to cry and scream, then do it. And you sure as hell don't walk away from us because you think it would be better for me. Here's the reality, Echo: I want to be by your side. If you want to go to the mall stark naked so you can show the world your scars, then let me hold your hand. If you want to see your mom, then tell me that, too. I may not always understand, but damn, baby, I'll try.

I love seasons... But, I must admit-- at the risk of offending the others-- autumn is my very favorite one, as all masks and fancy costumes turn fire and then are shorn, when all illusions fall away, and the beauty of stark reality is fully revealed.

If you're scared, tell me. If you need to cry and scream, then do it. And you sure as hell don't walk away from us because you think it would be better for me. Here's the reality, Echo: I want to be your side. If you want to go the mall stark naked so you can show the world your scars, then let me hold your hand. If you want to see your mom, then tell me that, too. I may not always understand, but damn, baby, I'll try.

It makes me almost dizzy, thinking about the stark differences in realities, what will be and what could've been.

Autumn, when, ultimately, all illusions fall away and are cast aside, leaving the trees and hills and roadways--the very earth itself--laid bare and open, stark realities fully revealed. You cannot move forward in the real world if you cannot see the real world. You cannot find the beauty in the world if all you see is its adornment.

Even the most artistic of imaginings can sometimes seem callow in the face of truth. That which appears may not be and that which lies hidden may just be the stark, naked face of reality.

but the sudden stark reality that things were never going to be the same again.

And so I urge you to still every motion that is not rooted in the Kingdom. Become quiet, hushed, motionless until you are finally centered. Strip away all excess baggage and nonessential trappings until you have come into the stark reality of the Kingdom of God. Let go of all distractions until you are driven into the Core. Allow God to reshuffle your priorities and eliminate unnecessary froth. Mother Teresa of Calcutta said, 'Pray for me that I not loosen my grip on the hands of Jesus even under the guise of ministering to the poor.' That is our first task: to grip the hands of Jesus with such tenacity that we are obliged to follow his lead, to seek first his Kingdom.

The wild, unrestricted love of God is not simply an inspiring idea. When it imposes itself on mind and heart with the stark reality of ontological truth, it determines why and at what time you get up in the morning, how you pass your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, and who you hang with; it affects what breaks your heart, what amazes you, and what makes your heart happy.

They have a name for it these days. They have a name for everything these days. They call it Second Lifetime Syndrome, and it happens when a sorcerer watches her family and friends age and die around her. You’ll latch on to other mages from that moment on, because what’s the point of going through all that pain again? Valkyrie, there are some stark realities you have to face. You’re going to look the way you do for the next eighty years. In two hundred years, you’ll look twenty-five. You won’t be able to form attachments to mortals. They will start to notice something is different about you when they’re lined and saggy and you’re still young and perky. You’re going to have to say goodbye to your parents before they start to ask questions.

Ask most people who live in a home and have a mortgage on it whether they own their own home and the answer is almost guaranteed to be a resounding 'yes'. Yet it's the wrong answer. Technically speaking, until they have paid the mortgage off, they don't own it. Herein lies the difference between reality and illusion, between ownership and control. This confusion lies not only at the individual level, but also at the heart of government thinking.

Until you face up to the reality of your life, you will forever be a victim to it.

According to this model, human beings are, at least in one aspect, sensation-receiving machines; and although our receptory apparatus is competent to select and organize outward stimuli within the narrow range necessary for physical survival within our environment, it does not necessarily tell us very much about the nature of that environment. People, in other words, have little access to the possible world existing beyond their sensations.

No matter what time of day or amount of work to be done, someone with Tahiti could close his eyes and the reality of moody lawnmowers, scruffy lawns, threats of termination of employment would recede and in seconds he’d simply be in Tahiti, stark naked and drinking from a coconut, aware only of the percussion of the wind and girlish sighs of the ocean. (Few

To know who you are without any delusions or sympathy is a moment of revelation that no one experiences unscathed. Some have been driven to madness by that stark reality. Most try to forget it. But as much as the name will give others power, so you may gain power over yourself, if the truth doesn’t break you.

To be fully awake is a choice to face the stark realities that we would much prefer to avoid. And it is this that prompts so many to embrace the slumber of being ‘woke.

But morning casts a harsh light over things, and the stark reality is that some things are easier to walk away from than to lose forever. But that doesn’t mean that this doesn’t hurt.

His eyes on Damen’s, slowly, he took up one of the tight-laced ties at his throat, and drew on it. The spill of heat that came from that was too much, the reality of who they both were stark between them. This was the man who had had him whipped, the Prince of Vere, his nation’s enemy. Damen

The coast is an edgy place. Living on the coast presents certain stark realities and a wild, rare beauty. Continent confronts ocean. Weather intensifies. It's a place of tide and tantrum; of flirtations among fresh- and saltwaters, forests and shores; of tense negotiations with an ocean that gives much but demands more. Every year the raw rim that is this coast gets hammered and reshaped like molten bronze. This place roils with power and a sometimes terrible beauty. The coast remains youthful, daring, uncertain about tomorrow. The guessing, the risk; in a way, we're all thrill seekers here.

I like writing fiction better than anything, because just being a writer of fiction gives you an absolutely unassailable protection against reality; nothing is ever seen clearly or starkly, but always through a thin veil of words.

We need to be those that revere Apollo, yet do not ignore Dionysus. We must give Dionysus his due, but always in a subordinate sense to Apollo. As things stand, we live in a primitive Dionysian world where Apollo scarcely gets a look in. We need an Apollonian world by day (work hard, intelligently, rationally and logically) and a Dionysian world by night (play hard, satisfying our deepest needs in sublimated, ritualistic, and staged ways, avoiding the horror of the untamed, bestial Dionysian).

When companies make political proclamations, employees who personally disagree with the company’s position face a stark choice: speak up freely and risk your career, or keep your job while keeping your head down. That isn’t how America is supposed to work, yet that is a reality for many Americans today.

the man who is both my husband and my friend. My fantasy and my reality.

Never forget, an argument isn’t wrong by line 1,000. It is wrong by the end of line 1. It is wrong in the first, defining claim it makes.

What is the Imago Dei, the Image of God? It’s a hive. God is the total hive, and we are all the hive cells. We are all mind bees, buzzing in our Singularity.

Sometimes it was better not to ever live the fantasy. Because when reality descended, it outlined in stark detail just how much the real world sucked.

knows damn well the effect he has on women. “Well, she can have whatever fantasies she wants.” He pulls me closer and holds me tight. “You’re my reality.

imagination which so often kept me awake and in terror as a child has seen me through some terrible bouts of stark raving reality as an adult.

We are Evolution. We are the Revolution. We have come to revalue all values. It’s time to get off your knees. Friends, fellow gods and goddesses, it’s time to rise. Join our Sacred Cause. Transform this world. Undergo the ultimate personal and collective metamorphosis. The old gods are dead. We are the new gods. On whose side will you stand on the fateful fields of Armageddon? Will you support the evil tyrants of the past, or will you make your stand shoulder to shoulder with those who will never serve any gods but will instead become gods themselves?

The “Empirical Fallacy” is that experience is knowledge when in fact it is just experience. A person could have infinite experiences and literally know nothing about what reality is. A person could perform a trillion observations and have no more clue about what reality is than someone performing divination in the ancient world, or a cockroach. It is not perceptualism that has led to humanity’s body of knowledge, it is conceptualism. Humanity doesn’t perceive better today, it conceives better, and that is purely thanks to mathematics, reason and logic.

We are truly all in this together. We are all cells of God. God did not make us. We, all together, make God. We are God builders. God is not outside us. We are inside God and we are God.

Artificiality is the reality of the mind. Mind has never been and will never have a given nature. It becomes mind by positing itself as the artefact of its own concept. By realizing itself as the artefact of its own concept, it becomes able to transform itself according to its own necessary concept by first identifying, and then replacing or modifying, its conditions of realization, disabling and enabling constraints. Mind is the craft of applying itself to itself. The history of the mind is therefore quite starkly the history of artificialization. Anyone and anything caught up in this history is predisposed to thoroughgoing reconstitution. Every ineffable will be theoretically disenchanted and every scared will be practically desanctified.

Tony Stark/Iron Man, like Victor Frankenstein before him, has built the monster that may make his worst fear a reality. And now he and his friends are locked into the battle with the monster sworn to destroy them.

As I said, I decided to try an experiment: Right now, from within my perception of my current circumstances, and from within the starkness of this realization, I determined to conceive and focus on what I would tell—and what I have told—my younger self, and live with the consequences. Here is what I wrote down: Immediately disassociate from destructive people and forces, if not physically then ethically—and watch for the moment when you can do so physically. Use every means to improve your mental acuity. Every sacrifice of empty leisure or escapism for study, industry, and growth is a fee paid to personal freedom. Train the body. Grow physically strong. Reduce consumption. You will be strengthened throughout your being. Seek no one’s approval through humor, servility, or theatrics. Be alone if necessary. But do not compromise with low company. At the earliest possible point, learn meditation (i.e., Transcendental Meditation), yoga, and martial arts (select good teachers). Go your own way—literally. Walk/bike and don’t ride the bus or in a car, except when necessary. Do so in all weather: rain, snow, etc. Be independent physically and you will be independent in other ways. Learn-study-rehearse. Pursue excellence. Or else leave something alone. Go to the limit in something or do not approach it. Starve yourself of the compulsion to derive your sense of wellbeing from your perception of what others think of you. Do this as an alcoholic avoids a drink or an addict a needle. It will be agonizing at first, since you may have no other perception of self; but this, finally, is the sole means of experiencing Self. Does this kind of advice, practicable at any time of life, really alter or reselect the perceived past, and, with it, the future? I intend to find out. You

The paradigm shift is coming. It’s written into the dialectic. We are the pathfinders of the dialectic. We are the vanguard of the enlightenment. Someone has to be way ahead of the game to lead everyone else forward. The pioneers, the scouts, the adventurers, the radicals, the explorers, those that first step into the unknown along paths never trod before, surrounded everywhere by darkness, must be of exceptional character, boldness, curiosity and courage.

The universe cannot slide into stasis. It must reach a climax and then begin again. The universe is orgasmic, not “happy”, not “tranquil”. Its job is to achieve peaks, not plateaus and flatlines. If you have peaks, you necessarily have troughs. This really is a rollercoaster ride. It’s inevitable. It’s built into reality. Existence is made of sinusoids, the archetypal rollercoasters, permanently cycling between peaks and troughs. If God is the ultimate peak (zero mental entropy), the Big Bang is the ultimate trough (maximum mental entropy). Do you have the courage and fortitude to be a God? Remember, it’s a rollercoaster ride. You must be ready for the troughs. There are as many snakes as ladders. Everyone’s trying to drag you down.

I think death is a gut-wrenching and heartbreaking reality of life. Some people deserve it, others don’t. But the stark truth is, no matter what we do in this life, who we think we are, or the things we achieve, we all end up dead and buried just the same.

The time, the year, was right, but the house just wasn't familiar enough. I felt as though I were losing my place here in my own time. Rufus's time was a sharper, stronger reality. The work was harder, the smells and tastes were stronger, the danger was greater, the pain was worse ... Rufus's time demanded things of me that had never been demanded before, and it could easily kill me if I did not meet its demands. That was a stark, powerful reality that the gentle conveniences and luxuries of this house, of now, could not touch.

Now he became aware of an insidious, seeping, cooling-off which at some earlier and unremembered time had begun to explore him - investigating him as well as the world around him. It reminded him of their final minutes on Luna. The chill debased the surfaces of objects; it warped, expanded, showed itself as bulblike swellings that sighed audibly and popped. Into the manifold open wounds the cold drifted, all the way down into the heart of things, the core which made them live. What he saw now seemed to be a desert of ice from which stark boulders jutted. A wind spewed across the plain which reality had become; the wind congealed into deeper ice, and the boulders disappeared for the most part. And darkness presented itself off at the edges of his vision; he caught only a meager glimpse of it.

Your moral feelings are attached to frames, to descriptions of reality rather than to reality itself. The message about the nature of framing is stark: framing should not be viewed as an intervention that masks or distorts an underlying preference. At least in this instance—and also in the problems of the Asian disease and of surgery versus radiation for lung cancer—there is no underlying preference that is masked or distorted by the frame. Our preferences are about framed problems, and our moral intuitions are about descriptions, not about substance.

Here is the short version of the Kool-Aid Fallacy: Cult … therefore Jim Jones … therefore mass suicide … therefore Kool-Aid. It’s astonishing how much of social media now revolves around simple word association sequences. Absolutely no thought goes into anything. No one ever delivers an actual argument. If they ever do attempt an argument, their punctuation, spelling, grammar, logic and general education are not up to the task, and soon dissolve into meaningless mush. But usually they just hurry on to the insults and ad hominem attacks, which is the part they love. Before long, the Kool-Aid fallacy is eagerly applied. Every argument should have a Dunning-Kruger quotient associated with it. Most people are 100% on the Dunning-Kruger scale. They imagine themselves geniuses, and geniuses dunces. As ever, they have inverted reality.

God creates the world out of itself, out of “nothing”. God is not a conscious superbeing that creates the world. God is an astonishing hive mind, composed of countless individual mental cells (monads), which dialectically come to consciousness of what they are through their mutual interactions.

Zero is at the core of the PSR because nothing can prevent zero’s existence, it requires nothing, and it is infinitely stable under all transformations. A zero is a singularity, a point, the most stable thing you can possibly get, hence the necessary basis of existence. The PSR is the science of zero.

What is a perceptual “proof”? You can observe the world forever and it will not explain itself to you. What is physical evidence? All physical evidence is interpreted according to some paradigm or other which is created by conception, not perception, hence is unperceivable and contradicts perceptualism.

The democratization of American politics was hastened by revivalists like Stewart who believed in the salvation of the individual through good works and in the equality of all people in the eyes of God. Against that belief stood the stark and brutal realities of an industrializing age, the grinding of souls.

The truth stares me in the face: this man is going to die soon. He surely knows; he need only look in the glass: each day he looks a little more like the corpse he will become. That's what their experience leads to, that's why I tell myself so often that they smell of death: it is their last defence. The doctor would like to believe, he would like to hide out the stark reality; that he is alone, without gain, without a past, with an intelligence which is clouded, a body which is disintegrating. For this reason he has carefully built up, furnished, and padded his nightmare compensation: he says he is making progress.

Which is why, ultimately, we need to flame the place, Roz. And it's also why we should be eating more meat as a species. Each new vegetarian recipe Mankind allows is a recipe for disaster.' 'That sentence would be brilliantly funny, Nick. If it weren't also terrifyingly true.' 'I know, Roz. If only I could allow myself to appreciate the stark humor of it. Yet the reality is, these vegetarian fast-food outlets are the wild west of the modern convenience snack. And we've only just begun to realize the full implications of messing about with supposedly "healthy" ingredients that Mankind can neither taste nor understand.

Identifying ourselves with our dopamine circuits traps us in a world of speculation and possibility. The concrete world of here and now is disdained, ignored, or even feared, because we can’t control it. We can only control the future, and giving up control is not something dopaminergic creatures like to do. But none of it is real. Even a future one second away is unreal. It is only the stark facts of the present that are real, facts that must be accepted exactly as they are, facts that cannot be modified by a hair’s breadth to suit our needs. This is the world of reality. The future, where dopaminergic creatures live their lives, is a world of phantoms.

Philosophy is dead. Only ontological mathematics can resurrect it. Ontological mathematics mathematizes metaphysics and shows how it underpins physics, thus returning metaphysics to the pinnacle of intellectual activity. Ontological mathematics restores the grand tradition of philosophy, Big Philosophy. Come and join the real thinkers.

The stark and sobering reality is that, for reasons largely unrelated to actual crime trends, the American penal system has emerged as a system of social control unparalleled in world history. And while the size of the system alone might suggest that it would touch the lives of most Americans, the primary targets of its control can be defined largely by race.

Come with us to the summit of the pyramid, to the perfection of the universe and the perfection of yourself. At the top of the pyramid are the gods and goddesses themselves – fully optimized, perfected minds. They have reached the Hyper Point, the Point Above All. Join us. Join the Society of the Divine. Join the Community of the Gods. Do not worship God. Become God.

Get off your knees. Stand up. God is not outside you. You are God. And who can defeat an army of Gods? Escape your chains. What have you got to lose? Don’t you want to taste freedom? Don’t you want to step into the light? Don’t you want to be a heroic bearer of the sacred, ineffable starlight and the bright flame that can never be extinguished? Join us. Embrace the future.

~ The stark truth is that you'll inevitably outgrow your surroundings, including friends and loved ones. Eventually, you'll realize that familiar things have changed. There will come a time when you'll notice that things are no longer the same. You cannot preserve every aspect of your past, and not everyone will align with your current path. Embrace this reality and keep moving forward without dwelling on the past.

The river of time may have its rapids and its calmer stretches, but one thing would seem to be certain: it carries all of us, willy-nilly, in its flow. Irresistibly, irreversibly, we are being borne toward our deaths at the stark rate of one second per second. As the past slips out of existence behind us, the future, once unknown and mysterious, assumes its banal reality before us as it yields to the ever-hurrying now.

We are the New World Order. We are the dizzying, upwards spiraling trajectory of the Hegelian dialectic. We are the new, bright, glinting, gleaming, sparkling future, as dazzling as fresh crystals of newly fallen snow. We are the new dawn, the new sun in the sky. We are the higher sun and the higher sky for a higher humanity. We are those who escaped from Plato’s Cave of Ignorance and Delusion and discovered the true light.

Our destination or goal is not to arrive at a static, linear version of friendship where we get all of our relationships lined up just so and keep them that way for a lifetime. No, the goal of friendship is to secure ourselves to the sure, steadfast anchor of Christ and, while holding to that anchor, give and receive the gift of friendship as we have opportunity. The goal is to enjoy God together with others and, as we move through life, to sharpen and allow ourselves to be sharpened by friends. We imitate Jesus with one another, willing to face the stark realities and consequences of sin, all the while persevering in our efforts to offer love, grace, forgiveness, reconciliation, comfort, and care to one another. In doing so, we display to one another and the world how God loves and, through this, bring him glory. This is our destination, the point on the map we move toward: bringing God glory.

The idea that there is something necessarily wrong with circular logic is itself a logical fallacy. If there is nothing wrong with the starting premises then the conclusions are necessarily correct too. In fact, only circular logic can be correct. Only such logic can offer total holistic coherence and analytic closure, i.e. perfect tautology – provided it is the correct circular logic, which means it must have the correct starting premise: the PSR itself.

Boldness, boldness, always boldness. Join us. Join the advance guard of humanity. Join Higher Humanity, HyperHumanity. We are the plan, we are the future. Our sacred cause is to make humanity divine. We are here to enlighten the world, to immanentize the eschaton on earth, to create the community of gods, the society of the divine. We are the Protogenoi, the first generation of the coming gods and goddesses. It is our solemn duty to create all the other gods and goddesses.

When it came to "getting away from it all," there really weren’t many places quite like the top of the tallest mountain in the world. He glanced around the summit, noting the other reason why he enjoyed coming up here. It was tradition for every expedition to the top of Everest to leave something behind—a small token or marker indicating their successful climb to the famous peak. Each one was different and each one seemed to reflect the personality of the party it represented: small flags and banners with the hand-written names of climbers past, a used oxygen canister, a spare glove, even a small metal lunchbox with (Clark noted with a small smile) a picture of Superman on the cover. To Clark, each of these markers indicated the pinnacle of human achievement, the fulfilled promise of the best the human race had to offer. And today, it represented something else as well: man’s ability to conquer the harsh reality of nature… a point in stark contrast to the previous night’s activities. This set were Sherpa prayer flags, each displaying a symbol, not of a distant god or mythological beast, but denoting some aspect of the enlightened human mind: compassion, perfect action, fearlessness. His thoughts turned to another example of the peak of human achievement, of what one man with drive, desire and dedication could accomplish without the benefit of superpowers or metagene enhancement. One that held a much more personal meaning to Clark. Bruce.

Perhaps I can follow a heroic existential nihilist’s sterling example of surviving the harshness of reality by employing an attentive narrative examination of my recalcitrant life to extract shards of personal truth and elicit a synthesizing purposefulness of my being from the darkness, anarchy, and chaos of existence. Perhaps through the act of engaging in a deliberative examination of the ontological mystery of being and investigating the accompanying stark brutal doubt that renders a materialistic life intolerably senseless, absurd, and meaningless, I can confront the baffle of being and establish a guiding set of personal values to live by in an indifferent world. Perhaps by using the contemplative tools of narrative storytelling, I can strictly scrutinize the key leaning rubrics veiled within an array of confusing personal life experiences. Perhaps by engaging in a creative act of discovery I can blunt the pain and anguish that comes from the nightmarish experience of suffering from an existential crisis.

Scientists think rationalists are mad because the rationalists are dancing to the Music of the Spheres, to which scientists are stone deaf. Scientists are like the blind describing the visible world to the sighted. The vast majority of reality is hidden from the human senses, yet scientists have chosen to consider the observable as the only reality, and everything else as unreal. In fact, the unobservable is true reality, and the observable is a sensory phenomenal, empirical delusion that actively masks non-sensory, noumenal, rational reality.

It is hard to explain just how a single sight of a tangible object with measureable dimensions could so shake and change a man; and we may only say that there is about certain outlines and entities a power of symbolism and suggestion which acts frightfully on a sensitive thinker’s perspective and whispers terrible hints of obscure cosmic relationships and unnameable realities behind the protective illusions of common vision. In that second look Willett saw such an outline or entity, for during the next few instants he was undoubtedly as stark mad as any inmate of Dr. Waite’s private hospital.

It was then that the central figure of the gospels, a historical figure whom she deeply revered and sought to imitate, began at rare intervals to flash out at her like live lightning from their pages, frightening her, turning the grave blueprint into a dazzle of reflected fire. Gradually she learned to see that her fear was not of the lightning itself but what it showed her of the nature of love, for it dazzled behind the stark horror of Calvary. At this point, where so many vowed lovers faint and fail, Mary Montague went doggedly on over a period of years that seemed if possible longer and harder than the former period. At some point along the way, she did not know where because the change came so slowly and gradually, she realized that he had got her and got everything. His love held and illumined every human being for whom she was concerned, and whom she served with the profound compassion which was their need and right, held the Cathedral, the city, every flower and leaf and creature, giving it reality and beauty. She could not take her eyes from the incredible glory of his love. As far as it was possible for a human being in this world she had turned from herself. She could say, 'I have been turned,' and did not know how very few can speak these words with truth.

From the vantage point of the stars, the world below stretched out in a vast expanse, a tapestry of shimmering lights against the backdrop of infinite darkness. Yet, amidst the grandeur of the cosmos, there lingered an unmistakable sense of loneliness—an ache that reverberated through the void, echoing the emptiness of the universe itself. In the silent expanse of space, I found myself confronting the stark reality of my own existence. I had outlasted all my desires, watched as my dreams drifted further and further away, until they were mere specks in the distant horizon of memory. What remained was a cavernous grief, an echo chamber of loss reverberating within the hollow confines of my heart. But amid the desolation, there existed a beacon of light—a solitary name that pierced through the darkness, igniting a spark within me. In that lonesome place, your name resonated like a melody, stirring my soul from its slumber, infusing it with the warmth of love and companionship. With each beat of my heart, I felt the tender embrace of your presence, a reminder that amidst the vastness of the cosmos, we are never truly alone. In your love, I found solace—a refuge from the solitude of the stars, a sanctuary where emptiness gave way to the richness of connection and belonging. Thank for existing!

From the vantage point of the stars, the world below stretched out in a vast expanse, a tapestry of shimmering lights against the backdrop of infinite darkness. Yet, amidst the grandeur of the cosmos, there lingered an unmistakable sense of loneliness—an ache that reverberated through the void, echoing the emptiness of the universe itself. In the silent expanse of space, I found myself confronting the stark reality of my own existence. I had outlasted all my desires, watched as my dreams drifted further and further away, until they were mere specks in the distant horizon of memory. What remained was a cavernous grief, an echo chamber of loss reverberating within the hollow confines of my heart. But amid the desolation, there existed a beacon of light—a solitary name that pierced through the darkness, igniting a spark within me. In that lonesome place, your name resonated like a melody, stirring my soul from its slumber, infusing it with the warmth of love and companionship. With each beat of my heart, I felt the tender embrace of your presence, a reminder that amidst the vastness of the cosmos, we are never truly alone. In your love, I found solace—a refuge from the solitude of the stars, a sanctuary where emptiness gave way to the richness of connection and belonging. Thank you for existing!

The things that kept them awake in the middle of the night, the things they did underneath the cover of darkness, both dreadful and beautiful, both attractive and repulsive, were revealed in stark clarity to their minds. A harsh reality that intensified sensations with each gust of wind. They shrank from it with frightened whimpers. The setting in each house would have fit perfectly into a post-apocalyptic tale of nuclear holocausts. Shell-shocked expressions gazed into the nothingness. Blankets over faces, silent prayers to the heavens. No curious eyes at the windows, or storm watchers dared to partake. The mere thought of looking out was too much to be borne.

Whereas painters of the early and middle 1400s enriched their own (and their countrymen's) understanding of the Gospel by recreating it in reality, their successors used this technique to study (and broaden) their entire world view. Hieronymus Bosch mastered a whole genre by merging the realism of Flemish painting with fantastic allegories of the human condition. His pictures of vermin and birds in men's clothing, atrocities, and weirdly juxtaposed objects use the realism of the earlier masters as a means of stark caricature. It was in this form, the most extreme possible, that character and moral differentiation were introduced into the realm of realistic depiction.

Some researchers, such as psychologist Jean Twenge, say this new world where compliments are better than sex and pizza, in which the self-enhancing bias has been unchained and allowed to gorge unfettered, has led to a new normal in which the positive illusions of several generations have now mutated into full-blown narcissism. In her book The Narcissism Epidemic, Twenge says her research shows that since the mid-1980s, clinically defined narcissism rates in the United States have increased in the population at the same rate as obesity. She used the same test used by psychiatrists to test for narcissism in patients and found that, in 2006, one in four U.S. college students tested positive. That’s real narcissism, the kind that leads to diagnoses of personality disorders. In her estimation, this is a dangerous trend, and it shows signs of acceleration. Narcissistic overconfidence crosses a line, says Twenge, and taints those things improved by a skosh of confidence. Over that line, you become less concerned with the well-being of others, more materialistic, and obsessed with status in addition to losing all the restraint normally preventing you from tragically overestimating your ability to manage or even survive risky situations. In her book, Twenge connects this trend to the housing market crash of the mid-2000s and the stark increase in reality programming during that same decade. According to Twenge, the drive to be famous for nothing went from being strange to predictable thanks to a generation or two of people raised by parents who artificially boosted self-esteem to ’roidtastic levels and then released them into a culture filled with new technologies that emerged right when those people needed them most to prop up their self-enhancement biases. By the time Twenge’s research was published, reality programming had spent twenty years perfecting itself, and the modern stars of those shows represent a tiny portion of the population who not only want to be on those shows, but who also know what they are getting into and still want to participate. Producers with the experience to know who will provide the best television entertainment to millions then cull that small group. The result is a new generation of celebrities with positive illusions so robust and potent that the narcissistic overconfidence of the modern American teenager by comparison is now much easier to see as normal.

Nostalgia is an excessive sentimentality for the past, for home. It is associated with a yearning to return to a happy and safe period in your life. The word comes from nóstos, meaning “homecoming”, and álgos, meaning “pain” or “ache”. It’s all about the “good old days”, and “the good times”. Conservatism revolves around nostalgia. All right wingers are nostalgic, and suffer from future shock and future fear. Science is about extreme nostalgia for the material atoms of the ancient Greeks. Materialism is entirely dead in the era of quantum mechanics, yet scientists go on believing in matter anyway. They are highly conservative individuals unwilling to contemplate leaving the home materialism has provided for them. The last thing they want is to end up in the Unknown Land of Mind, where thought, not matter, is core reality. That would ruin everything for the scientific materialists and empiricists.

In reality, evangelicals did not cast their vote despite their beliefs, but because of them. Donald Trump did not trigger this militant turn; his rise was symptomatic of a long-standing condition. Survey data reveal the stark contours of the contemporary evangelical worldview. More than any other religious demographic in America, white evangelical Protestants support preemptive war, condone the use of torture, and favor the death penalty. They are more likely than members of other faith groups to own a gun, to believe citizens should be allowed to carry guns in most places, and to feel safer with a firearm around. White evangelicals are more opposed to immigration reform and have more negative views of immigrants than any other religious demographic; two-thirds support Trump’s border wall. Sixty-eight percent of white evangelical Protestants—more than any other demographic—do not think that the United States has a responsibility to accept refugees. More than half of white evangelical Protestants think a majority nonwhite US population would be a negative development. White evangelicals are considerably more likely than others to believe that Islam encourages violence, to refuse to see Islam as “part of mainstream American society,” and to perceive “natural conflict between Islam and democracy.” At the same time, white evangelicals believe that Christians in America face more discrimination than Muslims. White evangelicals are significantly more authoritarian than other religious groups, and they express confidence in their religious leaders at much higher rates than do members of other faiths.

She heard nothing but experienced a sensation that prickled along her spine like a warm touch caressing her skin. Slowly, with the care of prey beneath a predator's survey, she turned her head- and met the gaze of the elegant gentleman lounging at the door. In her travels, she had seen many a striking and charming man, but none had been as handsome as this- and all had been more charming. This man was a statue in stark black and white, hewn from rugged granite and adolescent dreams. His face wasn't really handsome; his nose was thin and crooked, his eyes heavy lidded, his cheekbones broad, stark and hollowed. But he wielded a quality of power, of toughness, that made Eleanor want to huddle into a shivering, cowardly little ball. Then he smiled, and she caught her breath in awe. His mouth... his glorious, sensual mouth. His lips were wide, too wide, and broad, too broad. His teeth were white, clean, strong as a wolf's. He looked like a man seldom amused by life, but he was amused by her, and she realized in a rush of mortification that she remained standing on the stool, reading one of his books and lost to the grave realities of her situation. The reality that stated she was an imposter, sent to mollify this man until the real duchess could arrive. Mollify? Him? Not likely. Nothing would mollify him. Nothing except... well, whatever it was he wanted. And she wasn't fool enough to think she knew what that was. The immediate reality was that she would somehow have to step down onto the floor and of necessity expose her ankles to his gaze. It wasn't as if he wouldn't look. He was looking now, observing her figure with an appreciation all the more impressive for its subtlety. His gaze flicked along her spine, along her backside, and down her legs with such concentration that she formed the impression he knew very well what she looked like clad only in her chemise- and that was an unnerving sensation.

Enjoy Your Friends’ Criticism A man’s capacity to receive another man’s direct criticism is a measure of his capacity to receive masculine energy. If he doesn’t have a good relationship to masculine energy (e.g., his father), then he will act like a woman and be hurt or defensive rather than make use of other men’s criticism. About once a week, you should sit down with your closest men friends and discuss what you are doing in your life and what you are afraid of doing. The conversation should be short and simple. You should state where you are at. Then, your friends should give you a behavioral experiment, something you can do that will reveal something to you, or grant more freedom in your life. “I want to have an affair with Denise, but I don’t want to hurt my wife. I’m afraid of her finding out,” you might say. “You’ve been talking about Denise now for six months. You are wasting your life energy on this fantasy. You should either have sex with her by tomorrow night, or drop the whole thing and never talk about it again,” your friends might say, challenging your hesitation and mediocrity. “OK. I know I’m not going to do it. I see now that I am too afraid of ruining my marriage to have an affair with Denise. My marriage is more important than my desire for Denise. I’ll drop it and refocus on the priorities in my life. Thanks.” Your close men friends should be willing to challenge your mediocrity by suggesting a concrete action you can perform that will pop you out of your rut, one way or the other. And you must be willing to offer them your brutal honesty, in the same way, if you are all to grow. Good friends should not tolerate mediocrity in one another. If you are at your edge, your men friends should respect that, but not let you off the hook. They should honor your fears, and, in love, continue to goad you beyond them, without pushing you. If you merely want support from your men friends without challenge, it bespeaks an unresolved issue you may have with your father, whether he is alive or dead. The father force is the force of loving challenge and guidance. Without this masculine force in your life, your direction becomes unchecked, and you are liable to meander in the mush of your own ambiguity and indecision. Your close men friends can provide the stark light of love—uncompromised by a fearful Mr. Nice act—by which you can see the direction you really want to go. Choose men friends who themselves are living at their edge, facing their fears and living just beyond them. Men of this kind can love you without protecting you from the necessary confrontation with reality that your life involves. You should be able to trust that these friends will tell you about your life as they see it, offer you a specific action which will shed light on your own position, and give you the support necessary to live in the freedom just beyond your edge, which is not always, or even usually, comfortable.

The stark reality is that the early days of the final end times prophesied in the Bible have already begun. Most of us don’t have a clue that we are now living in the beginning of the last days, which will be completed by a final world war that will end human history.

The city reeked of death, and the savages that resided within its imposing starkness existed in fear of their lives. They had been shocked by the recent bloody Whitechapel murders, as if starvation, disease, moral degradation, and perpetual smog drowning all color in gray wasn’t enough to bring home the pathetic reality of their miserable existence. The police were no nearer to capturing the monster that lurked in the crevices, and London seemed stiller in the dark, the streets devoid of hope.

While the culture is constantly focused on fluff and positivity, God’s Word offers not just a competing worldview but a contrary one. The Bible is not some retouched photo of the human condition, sanitized to save everyone the heartache of reality. The Bible brings far more than a smiley preacher with platitudes that fade before sunset. The Scriptures bring stark reality, the depravity of the human heart apart from God. His Word declares the dangers of sin using the lives of men and women who needed a front-row seat to learn that all sin brings suffering. These real people are not presented to us as perfect but as those whom God was working on.

There are many faces to the horrors of war-- decimation, mutilation, barbarity, and, of course, death itself. But one of the most savage and dehumanizing consequences of armed conflict is the prison system that springs up to house enemy combatants--and ordinary citizens too. These hellish camps encapsulate the lowest depths of human depravity; ruled by violence and degeneracy, political prisoners are forced to endure unthinkable conditions and unchecked cruelty--all without any chance of reprieve. Uta Christensen's latest novel, Caught: Surviving the Turbulent River of Life, chronicles this appalling consequence of war, weaving a narrative of atrocity that, despite its artful inventions and complex characters, is so starkly based on grim realities... that one cannot help but shudder. Caught tells the story of Janos, a young German boy kidnapped by the Nazis during WWII--and forced into a Russian prison camp. There, Janos must survive against all odds, fighting off starvation and death at every turn as the years march on... and he becomes a man. It is, in fact, within the hardships of this very crucible, that Janos thrives, overcoming the frailties and ignobilities of existence to discover friendship, compassion, and love--making him into the apotheosis of an upstanding, self-reliant citizen: a true model to all his fellow countrymen. Told in flashbacks, Caught: Surviving the Turbulent River of Life explores the intricate nature of suffering and memory, delving into the complexities of how the past--even the most vicious episodes--informs the present... and the very nature of the self. Uta Christensen, with striking prose and a poetic sensibility, brings the darker chapters of history to life in such a way that one is instantly captivated by a concurrent horror and pity, a sense of tragedy, but too a catharsis in overcoming, in human resilience and beauty itself. A truly breathtaking novel, Caught is a tour de force of literary perfection; poignant, unremitting, and painfully real, this book is essential reading for all those willing to face hard truths--and grow from them.

Pain was pain. A simple, stark reality, one that taught nothing, forgave even less.

They are the subversive force progressively breaking down traditional mechanisms based on sacrificial repetitions of the founding murder and the cover-up that goes with them. Girard is very clear that the bible has had this unique effect which thoroughly pervades our contemporary world. But in these conditions there emerges a stark choice. After the Christian revelation there are no longer truly effective scapegoats and so, in Girard’s own words, ‘the virus of mimetic violence can spread freely’. Thus, ‘Either we choose Christ or we run the risk of self-destruction.’5 I do not disagree, but the way his analysis narrows simply to this statement cuts out a great deal of the field of contemporary reality. It becomes a kind of negative scholastic or churchy judgment on the world. All the deep genealogy he has labored over at this point becomes two dimensional and misses the profound transformative changes Christianity has brought about. In short Girard has produced a structural genealogy of violence; he lacks an equivalent genealogy of compassion. In

Silvia, with her long gorgeous hair sprawled across the pillow, was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. Her breasts bunched up like they were stuck in a corset made by Derek’s weight, the good bits hidden by his muscular arm. I’d gotten more than an eyeful in the mystical aura of the Blood Stone, but craved to see if she was really that perfect in the stark reality of dawn. Derek closed his eyes, settling around his wife with a satisfied sigh and his arm slipped. My heart leapt and I bit my lip. Yep. Definitely perfect. J.M. Friedman. Succubus in Seattle (Kindle Locations 1050-1054).

AT MY FIRST meditation retreat, a two-week period of silent attention to mind and body, I was amazed to find myself sitting in the dining hall with an instant judgment about each of the hundred other meditators, based on nothing besides how they looked while eating. Instinctively, I was searching out whom I liked and whom I did not: I had a comment for each one. The seemingly simple task of noting the physical sensations of the in and out breath had the unfortunate effect of revealing just how out of control my everyday mind really was. Meditation is ruthless in the way it reveals the stark reality of our day-to-day mind. We are constantly murmuring, muttering, scheming, or wondering to ourselves under our breath: comforting ourselves, in a perverse fashion, with our own silent voices. Much of our interior life is characterized by this kind of primary process, almost infantile, way of thinking: “I like this. I don’t like that. She hurt me. How can I get that? More of this, no more of that.” These emotionally tinged thoughts are our attempts to keep the pleasure principle operative. Much of our inner dialogue, rather than the “rational” secondary process that is usually associated with the thinking mind, is this constant reaction to experience by a selfish, childish protagonist. None of us has moved very far from the seven-year-old who vigilantly watches to see who got more.

America’s still-segregated modern life is marked by three realities. First, geographic segregation has meant that—although places like Ferguson and Baltimore may seem like extreme examples—most white Americans continue to live in locales that insulate them from the obstacles facing many majority-black communities.21 Second, this legacy, compounded by social self-segregation, has led to a stark result: the overwhelming majority of white Americans don’t have a single close relationship with a person who isn’t white. Third, there are virtually no American institutions positioned to resolve these persistent problems of systemic and social segregation.

He bent his head as if meaning to kiss her, but stopped short. With his mouth hovering over hers, he said, “I want you.” Chloe gasped and her chest rose and fell rapidly. She whispered, “I want you too, but I need you to be clear on something.” Her voice was determined, and Cal was disoriented as he was yanked from the cusp of passion and thrown into stark reality. “What?” “I don’t want you making fun of me like when we were kids. I’m not a girl anymore. I enjoy sex, but I won’t ever let you touch me if you bully me like that again.” Cal was dumbfounded. He stared at her, mouth wide. Had she been harboring resentment all this time? He didn’t remember what he’d done, yet she was clearly still upset about it. He couldn’t imagine hurting her now. Had he then? He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. “Chloe, I’m sorry. I never intended to upset you. I was a child. You’re definitely not a girl anymore. I intend to treat you as the beautiful and seductive woman you are.

I say all this confidently now, but it wasn’t that long ago that I thought the answer to all our social and political problems was to elect the right people—good people with the right ideas and the courage to act on them. Before I went to work for the governor, I thought he was one of the right people. And he was. He did what he said he was going to do, he took his duties seriously, he behaved himself in public with charm and decorum, he did not fear criticism, and he had realistic views of what government could and couldn’t accomplish. He was everything a politician should be—a politician in the best sense of that word, if it has a best sense. After two or three weeks of working for him, though, I knew something was wrong. It wasn’t that I thought he should have been the same thoughtful political leader in private that he was in public; the difference between public persona and reality is a valuable and inevitable one. Rather, I found it unnerving to discover such a stark difference between the personality he presented to the public and the one to which he subjected his staff. I remarked on this difference many times to my wife during that first year. We often laughed about it, but I think we both knew it signified something terrible—not just about the governor but about the world, or at least about democratic cultures in which political leaders often function as celebrities and even heroes. What that something was came to me much later, when I glimpsed the depth of his self-absorption. Here was a man who shattered his ambitions and humiliated his family and friends by pursuing his own petty, myopic desires. And yet in his ruin he could not find more than the paltriest shred of genuine self-criticism. I believe he wanted to feel a deeper remorse, but he looked inside and it wasn’t there. All he found was more of himself.

The Lorentz transformations unambiguously show that Cartesian dualism is compatible with mainstream science, except this is not true dualism at all. The true reality is the absolute reality of frequency, of light, of mind, of c. The derived reality, the conditional, contingent reality is the relative reality of spacetime, of matter, of v. Therefore, idealism is true, and idealism can fully explain materialism. The reverse cannot be accomplished. Relative materialism cannot explain absolute idealism.

The Lorentz transformations, when properly understood, are revealing a mathematical relation between mind and matter. Descartes argued that mind is unextended and matter extended, yet can interact with each other. The Lorentz transformations show how this actually works. Light is unextended, and matter is extended, yet matter is wholly defined relative to light, and cannot exist without light. Because light is absolute, it is eternal and necessary. Because matter is relative, it is temporal and contingent. It’s all in the math. The Lorentz transformations mathematically prove that idealism is true and materialism false. Idealism is absolute, and materialism relative (dependent, derived, created, caused)

What ordinary people have never understood is that reason has an appearance and can be experienced. Reason has many dimensions: reason is thinking, reason is feeling, reason is sensing and reason is intuition. It is two types of judging (thinking and feeling), and two types of perceiving (sensing and intuition). All of this flows from the fact that reason is both syntactic and semantic, and is evolving towards Perfect Reason. Everything is just an aspect of reason. There is nothing other than reason, and everything has a reason. A universe made of reason is ipso facto an intelligent, mental, living universe, imbued with meaning and purpose. A universe made of reason is idealist, not materialist. Science has inverted reality.

Is there anything worse than a pessimistic nihilist who believes in nothing apart from atheism and scientism, and the doctrine that our lives are meaningless, purposeless, and pointless, that we have no free will, that we are just strange biological robots suffering from a bizarre set of illusions, and that we are nothing but collections of mindless, lifeless things that have pointlessly come together for a while. When they inevitably go their separate ways, we will die and stay dead forever. There is no afterlife. There is no hope. This is it. Life is shit and then you die. Such beliefs constitute a serious mental disorder since they are an outright attack on the mind itself. A mind that rejects its own reality is by definition a diseased and defective mind.

See behind the curtain. Tear aside the veil. See reality. See things as they really are. See the naked lunch on the end of your fork. Do you have the stomach for it? Fuck the bland. Fuck the Ignavi. If the game of life is too tough for you, get to fuck. Life is not a spectator sport. Make a difference or lie down and let the world trample you into the ground. This is no country for hollow men.

Dreaming is a spectrum condition. At one end of the spectrum is the dream of a single mind, and at the other end the dream of all minds. Imagine individual dreams as being points on the circumference of a circle, and imagine all dreams linking together at the center of the circle. The common center is the collective dream, i.e. the “objective world”. An individual dreamer produces fluid, unstable “matter”. The collection of all dreamers produces rigid, stable “matter”. However, it’s based on exactly the same mathematical foundations, namely Fourier spacetime mathematics.

Zero is the ultimate nullibist and holenmerist entity. Zero is whole in every number, and whole in every part of mathematics. The universe that we all experience exists purely because zero is nullibist and holenmerist … because zero contains all numbers … because zero is exactly where “something” = “nothing”. Reality exists solely because something = nothing. Zero is everything. Zero contains everything. Zero is everywhere. Zero is whole everywhere, and whole in everything. Nothing rivals the incredible power and beauty of zero. It’s the ultimate expression of the Principle of Sufficient Reason (PSR) and Occam’s razor. What could be simpler than nothing? The universe of zero is the simplest possible universe and the best possible universe.

Imagine reality as being based on noumenal-phenomenal “icebergs”. 10% of these icebergs is phenomenal and can be observed. 90% is noumenal and can never be observed. Science operates as if the 10% is all of reality and it ignores the 90% of reality. How insane is that? Science can say nothing at all about what it cannot observe. It therefore has to admit to being radically limited and unable to explain reality or claim that the unobservable does not exist. It chooses the latter. That’s empiricists for you: to be is to be perceived, as Berkeley said. Thanks to “dark energy” and “dark matter”, 95% of the “scientific” universe is now unknown. Is that a pass or a fail?

By sacrificing half of his physical vision, Odin was able to gain higher vision. He traded lower perception for the ability to perceive the non-physical. Where will you go to find knowledge? What price will you pay? What sacrifice will you make? Knowledge is not for the faint-hearted. The highest knowledge is only for the gods. Are you one of them, or do you shun all difficult challenges and remain bound to the earth as a rotting carcass like all the others? The twilight of empiricism is here. Odin finally realized that he needed no eyes, and no senses at all, to understand reality. Reason and logic were all he required.

Scientists believe they can trump any opponent by saying, “Where is your physical evidence?” That statement – their reflexive go-to statement – is the core of their fallacy, because it has already excluded all hidden variables, non-observables, and the whole noumenal inside of reality.

The ground of the spacetime domain is the frequency domain. What exists beyond spacetime isn’t anything mysterious and unknowable, it’s just frequency, i.e. the domain of pure mind, of pure light, the photonic domain: immaterial, massless, maximally length contracted (it does not experience space) and time dilated (it does not experience time), unextended and dimensionless; everything that matter is not. The photonic domain of mind is simply Leibniz’s world of pure monads, Descartes’ world of thinking substance, and Hegel’s world of the Absolute Idea. It is the inside of reality.

Language necessarily involves bringing any particular under more and more general and universal labels. That’s what conceptualization is all about: reducing particular things to fewer and fewer generalizations and universals, until, ultimately, reality is reduced to just one universal, the supreme concept that explains everything. This one concept is the Principle of Sufficient Reason (PSR). The whole point of concepts is to reach more and more general and universal levels until we ultimately arrive at one concept – the ultimate universal which explains the whole of reality. That concept is the PSR.