Departure:

Having read more of MacIntyre only an hour ago, I take my disciplined and calculated leave of my own Blog, yet again, until further notice from the Paradox. I did my best, and those who say that it was not enough are demonstrably in no position to judge of me. Just as demonstrably, I must judge of them. But I can do so quietly.

I find justification for this in the relief I experience from my own will to power. If it is immoral to communicate in such a way that is aimed at a calculated result, then I MUST leave, and that rests well with my conscience. However, I feel no remorse for the “manipulations” of the past. Not only were they mild; they might have been motivated by something deeper than manipulation. In this sense I am an Intuitionist, but not entirely. I still am more of a Virtuist than I am an Emotivist. But not entirely. My virtue is Felt, like Taoism. So I guess that I am still a Taoist. Though not entirely. No one school is totally binding. But they all point me towards that Universal Plane which they preclude the existence of only when they become pious in their own feelings of being used and demand instead to be Ends in and Of Themselves, rather than means. Philosophy is the bark that seeks the Horizon of Truth. It is the map, but it is as such only part of the Territory. However substantial that part might be by contrast with other parts, which laypeople regard as parts of a whole but that they, like the dogmatic philosophy student, overvalue as though they were the World. Such are addicts. I am not an addict. Neither am I a Stoic. I remain a Mystic.

Besides: it’s not like I have entirely ruled out calculated language as “mere” manipulation. I suppose that that makes me a pragmatist. But not entirely. I might have lost my faith in people, but I still have faith in God. Did I lose my faith in People? Or just a few people? If I lost my faith in People, at least there are people still that I can place some faith in. Though not entirely. But rather calculatedly. I guess it’s part of growing up. If I may be so bold without sounding dogmatic.

My conscience is at peace. After all: it was only as an excuse to leave that I dismissed this project, or at least what it might become beyond this point, which would not be an altogether arbitrary line to draw, as though it were manipulation. Am I less of a man – or less of a moral man – for using an excuse? On the contrary: the very felt need to excuse myself demonstrates a sense of moral accountability. And it proves to be my only reason for writing. And even though the burden of an abusive past rests heavily upon my shoulders, looking over my shoulder and judging me for this same claim, and then even moreso for the confession that I had to write this entire letter “just to” make it, (as though men only wrote to vindicate themselves, and not to reflect, or as though reflection had all ways to be negative) I know the name of this Beast. And it arrives only at that moment when I hold myself accountable, for it has so infiltrated my public and private, internal Life. And it can get behind me. Amen.

Dm.A.A.