The Mad Erosophical Sage: Erosophy: A Way of Knowledge

Philosophers have pursued wisdom Platonically, as an escape from flesh and Earth, as a pursuit of an abstract One that both explains and negates all. I choose to pursue wisdom erotically, as an immersion into flesh and Earth in the pursuit of pleasure and beauty, wonder and play, in which I may lose my self. In this way, each thought becomes a kiss, each idea a caress, each meaning an embrace intended not as an end, but as a way of playing beyond itself -- wisdom as orgiastic lovemaking! The illusion of universal Oneness is merely a deeply myopic view (from the arid distance known as abstraction) of the wild orgy of myriad lovers that I call the pluriverses, and only by full immersion into this orgy will I find that beautiful devilish wisdom, the Sophia who is also called Venus Morningstar, the Luciferian Aphrodite in all of her hermaphroditic glory, the wisdom that I can only discover through carnal nowledge, through freeing myself from the fear of intimacy in my encounters with all the whirling chaos of flesh, Earth, the pluriverses. To pursue wisdom in this way is not philosophy, but rather erosophy, and may well appear as madness to those who fear cosmic intimacy, especially to philosophers. Long ago, I chose to be ... an Erosopher!

As an Erosopher, I dance through my whirleds as a negator of worlds, a laughing and reveling nay-sayer ... Negation ... is "no" ... No world is "Now"! Now can be experienced, but only when no world is felt in the fullest way ... World is an enslavement to the static, the defined, now is the negation of that enslavement, fully experiencing what whirls beyond world ... In the experience of now, I find nowledge, now leaping off the edge ... But then along comes that "K", a symbol of corralling, of blocking things in ... I "know" -- I have tried to corral "now" -- and so knowledge tries to imprison now to keep it from leaping off the edge ... But that "K" remains silent in shame, because it can never succeed in truly corralling nowledge. It uses measure, number, category, identity, history, ... and it always falls short of capturing now. Now always escapes its corralling "K", and so the ignorance that is science, abstract human thought, is exposed over and over again ... as numbers and measurements and categories fail, and science has to adjust its story yet again.

You and I are living in times when science is doing almost exactly what christianity did about 150 years ago when christian fundamentalism arose as a movement declaring, "This is the one correct way to believe." Now the proponents of science have started to use exactly the same sort of language, showing that science has now also become a religion of the most dogmatic sort. It was not always this way, but since modern science had its origins in the attempts of Renaissance era christian thinkers to show how god had created a "rational" universe, it was almost inevitable that it would move in such a religious direction ... The heretics being burned at the stake at that time were precisely those like Giordano Bruno, who rejected the idea of a mechanistic universe that assumed a "clock-maker" god who made this "clock" of a universe, preferring a living, vibrant, infinite cosmos in which passion is the source of the cosmic dance.

To truly embrace the now of no world, of worldlessness, is to embrace the Unknown, and, indeed, the Unknowable, to be able to say ... or rather to proudly sing and howl, "I don't know!", and give yourself over to ecstatic Mystery ... that realm of dark beauty in which the marvelous flowers of poetry blossom. So few are prepared to embrace this most beautiful lover, the Unknown, the Unknowable, the eternal Mystery, and to sing out that glorious love song, "I don't know!" Ha ha ha! What wild joy dances through that song, a joy completely lacking in all the claims to knowledge found in numbers, measurements, categories, in dogmas, credos, catechisms, in all the "correct" lines and "rigorous" theories, corpses of ideas from the past that impose their rigor mortis, rendering those who accept them senseless (lacking the capacity to sense) here and NOW! And so the beautiful Mystery of nowledge gets lost ...

I have no delusions about where humanity is heading, where even most anarchists are choosing to go. Having lost now, and with it nowledge of direct lived experience and experiments (the same word is used for both of these words in several languages with which I am familiar ... I think that is marvelous!), sacrificing it to past as history and identity and to future as hope, worry, survival, getting by, ... , they have guaranteed their own doom as they head into the corral ... not as a conscious choice, but as the inevitable outcome of the stupidity that they call knowledge, reason, science, certainty, the world, ...

As for me, as I said, I choose to be an Erosopher, one who makes love with Wisdom, with the Unknown, with the wild Chaos of the pluriversal Orgy ... And so I do not cling to existence, and I have no fear of dying ... of that dance of my flesh and self back into the whirl of Earth and chaotic cosmos to create more Life ... My rebellion does not hope for social change ... It is the beautiful and amorous poetry that I create now, passionately making love with a Wisdom who ever whirls beyond words and then, chuckling, returns to them transgressively, creating poetry. And this poetry flows with beauty, because it is:

Meaningless

I lie proudly

in a whirlpool

of dreams,

I need no answers.

It is beautiful.

That is all I need.

Colors drift beyond

the limits of light

and kiss the darkness.

Beyond ...

this is the word of now!

Now is ever

the Unknown that I love.

Have I gone crazy?

There is no doubt!

I am crazed, I am cracked!

The pottery kept too long

in the kiln ...

And this, THIS ...

is my beauty!

I am in the midst

of a tornado's whirling rainbow,

every color whirling into

every other hue;

the wild magic of chaos,

beautiful!

I do not fear the danger

of dancing with chaotic beauty!

I fear only the danger

of safe mediocrity,

the slow death of well-ordered boredom.

Bring me the sea,

vast in her calm

and in her stormy chaos!

Bring me the forest

every seething and teeming

with life!

Bring me the mountain,

ancient, yet ever caressed

by the young avalanche,

wild meltings and movings and crumblings ...

Even the rocks are alive!

Nothing is static.

Stillness itself is a dance!

A moment, a pause

in the wild stream of life!

Most likely a laugh

of the pluriverses!

He hee! It is all

such a lovable joke!

Oh! May I remember this

in every moment!

Remembering this

is the way

of the godless gods!

Ha ha ha!

Every beast, every tree,

every virus, every fungus,

every flower, ...

is a godless god!!!

Only the humans

who think too much

too often fail to be so ...

For thought creates gods

to worship ...

And so destroys gods

to be without thinking

or caring ...

Just living

and being

a god among gods,

and so beautifully godless!

Because where all are gods

there are no gods,

and laughter and dancing

replace prayer!

What pleasure flows wild

when love destroys worship!

When desire destroys puerile devotion!

Oh, tonight I am drunk,

and my wildness destroys

every god with whom

I cannot get drunk and make love.

Those gods with whom

I can revel and orgy,

these are the gods!

Now I and all who live are gods!

And so that word has become

most beautiful ... and meaningless ...