Table of Contents

PrefaceI. Sublimity as the Bedrock of ValuesII. On ElitismIII. On the EstablishmentIV. On the Figure of JesusV. On IdentityVI. The ExistentialistVII. On Chopin’s WaltzesVIII. On MortalityIX. On CreativityX. Music - the UniversalXI. On the IconicXII. The Purpose of LifeXIII. The Life of the ImaginationXIV. Religion vs. The EnlightenmentXV. A Reappraisal of MoralsXVI. Thoughts on Man

Preface

These brief aphoristic essays originally appeared as part of a series of blog posts, written in 2015. I have edited them for this edition, with the intention of reaching a wider audience. I hope you find these essays both interesting and useful.

They cover a broad variety of topics, mainly philosophical in nature. I am chiefly interested in the spiritual, the creative and the rational. They can be easily read in one sitting, or reflected on at greater leisure.

I. Sublimity as the Bedrock of Values

There can be no authentic human happiness, both in the Aristotelian sense of human

flourishing, and in the common emotive sense, without a grounding in the value of sublimity.

The sublime is everything – it is the purpose of existence. Without the sublime, there is only

a flat, monochrome existence; we are not engaged in our deepest being. There has to be an

engagement with artistic inspiration, with the creative arts or broader culture, and an

acknowledgement of the essential spiritual intangibility of ultimate purpose.

We are deeply creative and spiritual beings – our purpose can never be circumscribed by

material values. In the Neoplatonic schema, matter is the lowest element, being pure

privation, and requiring the imbuement of soul. Now this shows that material things generally

are empty without soul. The only authentic establishment of meaning comes from creative

values. One must transcend the agora, retire from the forum and set about creating a unique

spiritual value.

Only thus can humanity reach its truest potential.

II. On Elitism

The mass of culture is degrading – one should aim for the heights; it is also low cost to do

so.

Much of culture nowadays has degenerated into distracting diversions, with no inherent

spiritual or artistic content. There is some merit in the best of so-called pop culture, but in

general the television is an utterly dismal medium. Reading and music are still the cultural

activities par excellence; indeed nothing can replace the written word for its concision and

majesty.

One can affect an elitism without wealth or honours; one need not be privileged. A good

education is sometimes necessary, in order to have the impetus to read the best authors, but

not always so. I have known an elite educational setting, and although it can confer the right

environmental factors for development, it was not a happy place for my soul. The greatest

cultural advantages are democratically available, on online retailers, for a reasonable price.

Elitism is a mindset – it is the pursuit of excellence. Technology is improving so rapidly, that

the very best is now in the hands of the lower middle class. Emperors could not have dreamt

of such privilege. One only needs a willing mind to actualise such advantages. Aim for the

very best – create a paradisiacal cultural sanctuary within your home. And you will reap the

rewards to the very core of your being.

III. On the Establishment

Have read Owen Jones’ book The Establishment. Very entertaining work, in which Mr Jones

sets out his credentials. Of course, the presence of a powerful elite does not bother me. I

would rather we were in the hands of capable and well-educated people than a true

Athenian democracy, where Anytus, Meletus and Lycon rule the roost.

In this regard, the thought of Hans-Hermann Hoppe is interesting, in his nostalgia for

monarchies. I would rather trust safe governance to the brightest minds, than have Socrates

condemned to death. It seems I am not alone – although there is some degree of alienation

from our political system, no-one is suggesting a viable change.

In primitive hunter-gatherer societies, status was incredibly important, with members vying

for alpha male status. I would like to think we live in more enlightened times, in which one

can transcend negative aspects of the will to power. Meritocracy is a kind of will to power in

itself, but for those who give themselves the public challenge, they become servants of the

people. As Lao Tzu famously stated: ‘Men hate to be “orphaned,” “widowed,” or “worthless,”

but this is how kings and lords describe themselves’.

For one gains by losing and loses by gaining. I support the establishment.

IV. On the Figure of Jesus

What are we to make of the God-man: his legacy and his authentic spiritual meaning?

I have always encountered difficulty with Jesus. In my prayer I tend to address the Father;

indeed my closest relationship to Jesus is during the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary (from

the Agony in the Garden to the Crucifixion). Outside this time, my spiritual relation to Jesus

is limited. But what are we to make of his legacy?

Some of the Gospel sayings of Jesus are full of inspiring wisdom – ‘a man cannot serve two

masters’, ‘I came not to send peace, but the sword’, ‘for where thy treasure is, there is thy

heart also’. Some of the parables have become rather ordinary with over-familiarity, but they

are still powerful messages. The overturning of the tables is interesting for revealing a

complex character.

The spiritual meaning of Jesus is difficult to answer. ‘Behold, I stand at the door and knock!’

(Revelation 3:20); there is the famous Victorian painting ‘Light of the World’, which I dislike,

based on this quotation. We are meant to respond in our hearts to Jesus’ invitation; the

trouble is my main spiritual relationship is with the Father, and that is how I prefer it.

However I can take small steps, such as the excellent morning prayer, the ‘Litany of the Holy

Name of Jesus’.

It seems Jesus represents a more human side to Godly encounter, but I prefer the sublimity

of the Father to the more tempered image of the Son. Still, both encounters are immensely

fruitful to the spiritual life.

V. On Identity

What really constitutes identity? How do we define ourselves? By interests, by profession, by

political or religious affiliation? It seems that the question of identity is very deep, and one

worth some philosophical consideration.

Environment arguably counts for more in identity than innate traits. For we are all dependent

on environmental factors, and due to neuroplasticity our habits and traits can be moulded by

the environment in which we live. I would say roughly 75% is environmental, and 25%

innate. We are who the world makes us, how the world shapes us. But we still have that

innate drive to unfold and develop the inner expression of our soul, which is in turn shaped

by our outer circumstances.

There is such a thing as genius, although perhaps it requires certain environmental

conditions in order to flourish. One must also factor in the question of luck, and its role in

producing outcomes. Our identity is chiefly the chemical reaction of inner drive with outer

conditions, for none of us are an unqualified Cartesian entity, absolute within ourselves; we

are all products of factors beyond our control.

It seems the simplest way of putting it is that identity is reciprocal and fluctuating; like the

Buddhist five Skhandas, or Hume’s bundle of perceptions, we are constantly in flux, and like

a candle-flame, we both are and are not the same in every passing moment. Molecularly, the

body replaces most of its cells over time. Yet I would argue that there is still an essential soul

– albeit one that is greatly shaped by environment.

Our identity is a mysterious property – yet it can never be described as completely self-

contained.

VI. The Existentialist

In today’s world, an increasingly frequent artistic or cultural expression is existentialism.

Faith has collapsed, more perhaps due to societal factors than scientific advancement.

There is a void, and man faces a meaningless universe. This is the world of the indie band,

of the middle aged male losing his grip on the everyday, of atheists questioning government

as part of a deeper malaise and uncertainty.

Spirituality is beautiful, and wherever we make the effort to seek out the world’s religious

traditions, or better yet become integrated in the practice of a religion, we will find rich

meaning and a deep significance. Existentialism is a kind of collapse of the spiritual

narrative, where one only encounters hostility or indifference – it is fundamentally a deficit of

love. The love of God sustains the believing Christian, and this is a powerful motive force.

The existentialist’s position, on the other hand, is fundamentally insecure.

Spirituality, even without religion, is an affirmation of eternal values – the existentialist has no

eternal values; everything is relative. ‘The peace that passeth understanding’ is the goal of

religion – the existentialist is in a state of permanent disquiet. Of course, existentialism can

be poetic: Camus’ The Outsider, or Radiohead’s ‘Paranoid Android’, are masterful in their

synthesis of an alienated condition. Existentialism is as old as the Ancients: although

modern factors of industrial society and the ‘univocal error’, whereby science displaces God

through a misunderstanding of ontology, have popularised the condition.

The poetry of existentialism masks its inner conceptual poverty – one must have a secure

spiritual foundation in universal values; otherwise one is left simply with the nihilism of high

tragedy: ‘This great world shall so wear out to naught’.

VII. On Chopin’s Waltzes

Currently listening to the waltzes of Chopin, performed by Alice Sara Ott. It is my opinion that

the waltzes are in fact the best of Chopin, especially the compellingly beautiful Waltz No. 9.

One could of course argue that the Prelude No. 4 offers one of the most emotively and

atmospherically resonant aspects of Chopin’s works, and the nocturnes, although I have

been somewhat overexposed, are undeniably so emotive and soul-stirring.

The waltzes are very different – often playful and light, yet with spectacular melodies. Yet the

Waltz No. 9 (Farewell) manages to be utterly transcendent, in its universal frame of

reference, comparable to the second movement of Beethoven’s seventh symphony. This

waltz, in its central theme, captures an inexpressible sadness and love, as well as some

form of human mystery – perhaps, for example, the enigma of human life in all its paradox. It

is affirmative, yet sounding a fatalistic note. It is, in short, truly remarkable.

The waltzes are, I would say, perhaps counter-intuitively, Chopin at his most metaphysical.

This is because, although often light and playful, characteristics we would not necessarily

associate with deep meaning, they succeed in encapsulating a brief, charming and

intangible mystery of life. Transience is very apparent, as is love, and a higher

consciousness of life’s unfolding splendour.

There are no really dark notes here; even in the minor key, it is simply thoughtful – the

waltzes mostly present life as affirmative and joyful, with a gentle reminder of mortality.

VIII. On Mortality

One must eventually come to terms with mortality. Perhaps, at 30, it isn’t uppermost in my

mind. But it helps us all to dwell on the temporary nature of our sojourn on Earth.

The fact is, not many generations hence, we shall all be dead. And how does that affect our

current lives? Mostly, we are too caught up in the cares of the world to consider deep

philosophical questions. But to think is to be, and we cannot go through life on a superficial

basis without deep regret. In order to make the most of this time, we must consider its

temporary nature. So, I will die. My memory will disappear from Earth. And life will go on its

metalled ways of time past and time future. Only, my past will be obliterated.

What will have been the purpose of my life? It is difficult to say at this point in time. It makes

me wish to make some lasting contribution, but of course most of mankind fade into oblivion.

What is the point in even existing? For several generations hence we are all dead and

forgotten, unless we are a Shakespeare. It all seems so futile.

Some turn to religion. For others, they take comfort in being completely absorbed by the

present. But thoughts of our eventual death should make us more humble, more

compassionate, and give us a definite sense of life mission. Only thus can we begin to make

sense of our own fated transience.

IX. On Creativity

Creativity must run through life like a rich seam of gold, or a centripetal force.

It is vital to have creativity – this is necessary for spiritual health. I live my life as though in a

dream: fiction blends with non-fiction, the true becomes redefined. ‘What is Truth?’ said

jesting Pilate, and indeed the only real truth I adhere to is God. As for my senses, they can

be easily deceived; my mind can be confused, misinformed or misfiring; only God is real, in

this twittering world.

Creativity is health – now the mind is generally in a state of flux. To pray and meditate is

helpful; it finds that essential still point, without which we live lives of confusion. And prayer is

essentially a creative act: the will soaring up to God. Scenarios are also helpful: by this I

mean creative episodes that do not rely so much on empirical reality, but embody a deeper

reality. It is useful to live out these scenarios from time to time.

What makes me confident that God is not simply a creative scenario? Well, this is the

essence of faith; indeed, it is crowned as a theological virtue. To have faith is to believe in at

least one abiding reality, more than what the senses can provide. So religion can play a

significant part in creative living, but there are other factors: chiefly, being prepared to tinge

reality with a fictive atmosphere, since reality is after all stranger than fiction.

To be creative, one needs to let go of quotidian established modes. Matter-of-fact is the

enemy of the soul.

X. Music - the Universal

I am listening to a Sibelius symphony for the first time. And it seems to me that music is

simply the universal primordial force of creative mankind. Music is the greatest art form –

because it is so directly emotional, and because it soars to incredible spiritual heights. True,

there is some rivalry with a timeless work of poetry, but I believe music just about edges it.

Music provides comfort in affliction, and inspiration in times of creativity. It is so diverse, that

its possibilities seem infinite. Music has many different qualities, often depending on the

genre and the period: spiritual, romantic, philosophical, lyrical, to name but a few. It speaks

to the soul in a language above the spoken word; it is ‘supralinguistic’.

Above all, music offers a universe that was not possible before. I remember my enchantment

when first becoming acquainted with the Beethoven symphonies, in 2006. Or the discovery

of Monteverdi’s Vespers of the Blessed Virgin. These are special moments. True, over-

familiar music can lose its power to affect, but a masterpiece like the Mass in B Minor can be

returned to throughout life for solace, mystery and spiritual direction.

Music is undoubtedly the most accessible art form and also I would say the most primordially

powerful.

XI. On the Iconic

I love the iconic. It is a beautifully concise symbol for a state of being. Some things in culture

or world events we can immediately label as ‘iconic’, being representative of something far

broader than their original field, and often in an elegant fashion.

Rather negatively, the image of Obama enjoying himself on the golf cart, just after the

beheading of James Foley, was iconic. It beautifully represented a detachment from real

world events, unwise in a president. It struck me as a poetic portrait.

I’ve just been listening to Marvin Gaye, ‘Wherever I Lay my Hat’ – a superb and evocative

song, just as iconic as Otis Reading’s ‘Sitting on the Dock of the Bay’ – both songs convey

the idea of a quaint and idyllic state of being for a certain strata of black America.

The iconic is as concise and poetic as an epigram, or indeed as deep and meditative as an

Orthodox icon. Everywhere it reveals so much about life. One doesn’t approach it with

judgement, but with an open, enquiring mind.

Some examples are so famous, such as Hitler’s Nuremburg rally speech, that over-familiarity

can lose some of the poetry. The most iconic things metaphysically are unfamiliar or

overlooked details. And it is these details, encountered in everyday life, that often strike us

with their depth and symbolic magnitude.

The iconic is an endless source of creative inspiration.

XII. The Purpose of Life

‘Man delights not me – no, nor woman neither’ Hamlet

When we consider life’s purpose, we can approach the question from a number of angles –

the spiritual, for example, or the scientific. One cannot find a better scientific definition than

Aristotle’s human flourishing. A more spiritual definition might be to become close to God –

to absorb the Godhead into one’s character and thought. But really, we are best seeing it in

a neutral manner, as this allows for the fairest definition.

So life’s purpose is ultimately to reach some level of fulfilment. What that fulfilment is

depends entirely on one’s core attitudes and values. For me, it is to delve deeply into the

finest of global culture, uncover its hidden meanings, and so find a path to the Divine. But

this is entirely subjective; I cannot expect others to agree. Perhaps extroverts have a more

socially orientated core purpose, for example.

It is easy to say that life is what you make of it, but we have to introduce some level of

objectivity, as there is a constant that unites humankind – if only the human condition, as

elegantly dissected by Shakespeare in his great tragedies. When we say that the most

common purpose is fulfilment, we may also imply a metaphysical element – things

conforming to their common disposition, arriving at their manifest destiny, and actualising

their energies. Therefore we could say that with sufficient meditation on the theme, anyone’s

manifest destiny could be discerned fairly readily – the hidden nature of things is open to the

deepest analysis. What is contemplation, but the eye of wisdom and truth?

So although the purpose of life differs between individual archetypes, one thing can be said

with certainty: we all strive to realise our manifest destinies, some blindly, and some more

knowingly. It is well worth stopping to consider the trajectory of our lives and what that

manifest destiny may be, rather than stumbling into an unknown fate. For there is not any

thing secret that shall not be made manifest; but beware of this knowledge arriving too late.

We owe it to ourselves to be consummately self-aware.

XIII. The Life of the Imagination

‘Denmark’s a prison.’

‘Then is the world one.’

The best life is the life of the imagination. Who could honestly put up with cold hard reality,

with its absurd limitations? All the artists were wealthier than princes, for they had found the

secret of the imagination.

We are blessed, as human beings, with such a beautiful mind. And this mind allows us to

live out our creative lives exactly as we wish, with no obvious limitations. Such a gift is

priceless. Reality is barren. You get some business magnates and political leaders who

stake their claim in reality, but theirs is no doubt a frustrating journey.

The great artists all knew that their abode in the imagination was much greater than anything

reality could offer, and many cultural treasures were born of this realisation. I like to follow in

the footsteps of these artists, however dimly. I see the future, and it is entirely of the mind.

My surroundings, my environment, even my life situation, are comparatively unimportant,

compared to the grandeur of the creative imagination.

The impoverished artist is better off than the wealthy potentate.

XIV. Religion vs. The Enlightenment

Currently reading Anthony Pagden’s brilliant work on the Enlightenment. And it leads me to a

grappling within my own mind (or indeed, soul) between the beauty of spirituality and the

beauty of the self-determinate individual. Need they be separate? I do not think so. For while

Romanticism reacted against cold rationality and sensibly argued for the role of feeling and

intuition, I think a cosmopolitan spirituality is possible, where one acknowledges both the

tremendous advantages wrought by Enlightenment thinking, and the supreme importance of

creative depth and intuition (modern psychology tells us as much).

You see, it is easy to set off the Roman Catholic Church against the Enlightenment. After all,

successive Popes blasted the loose immorality and rudderless nature implicit in

Enlightenment rejections of tradition. Indeed, Horkheimer and Adorno were to argue (in a

work I eagerly look forward to reading) that a chain of succession led from the Enlightenment

to Auschwitz, via the common man losing touch with his moral and spiritual roots, even

‘sneering’ at such things in favour of his new-found freedom and self-determination.

Such criticisms of the Enlightenment are harsh, but contain a vital kernel of truth. Of course,

the Enlightenment has also greatly shaped the Catholic Church, leading to a loosening of

tradition and a more cosmopolitan outlook. Ultimately, religion and the Enlightenment legacy

need not be antagonistic; perhaps one needs the other more than ever. In some of the Salafi

perversions of Islam we see the danger of a world view devoid of the Enlightenment. The

Catholic Church is thankfully now deeply tolerant, but has a chequered history of intolerance

throughout the Middle Ages and Renaissance.

On the other hand, Enlightenment thinking devoid of any spirituality, or even deep creative

intuition, is a frightening prospect because it presents man as essentially a rational machine,

which psychology can now discount as nonsense. As powerful as the Enlightenment was

(and still is) for human progress, in their firm rejection and mockery of religion we see a

tendency towards a soulless ratiocination of the mysteries of human nature. The truth may

be that the postmodern world of religion and secularism side by side allows a fruitful

combination of both traditions.

For me, I still grapple with a personal enigma. How far am I to take my spiritual inclinations,

and what shows the greatest dedication to the truth, the path of reason or the depth of a

spiritual contemplation? We know about the power of the intuitive mind, those split second

insights and formidable tacit knowledge, from cutting edge psychology. Might there be a

scientific explanation for the age-old discipline of intellection, a superior thinking to

ratiocination? Many of us (alas the modern state!) are too rushed to consider deep

contemplative truths. Yet that very quest for truth must be our ultimate aim.

Indeed, if I were to be convinced of the cultural superiority of exclusive secularism, I would

leave my faith, such is my commitment to the truth. But I know deep down that Catholicism

answers my need for a deep spiritual undercurrent to life. Without some level of spirituality,

can we even properly appreciate art and culture? Without even a trace of Platonism?

Abandon the spiritual ideal and one falls into the banal and amoral; abandon the rational

ideal and one risks fundamentalism.

XV. A Reappraisal of Morals

I am a Platonic Epicurean. Allow me to explain my appraisal.

Morals are often bandied about like pawns in a chess game. The truth is that the name of

morality is abused in the modern world, as perhaps it always has been. Some thinkers, like

Nietzsche, have proposed that morality is weakness. This, although from a captivating

thinker, clearly leads to a very unpleasant society. Others, like La Mettrie, consider that

morality is pleasure. Epicurus after all thought that the individual retired from society, living

in contemplation and following his intellect in quiet solitude was the highest pleasure, and

thus he somewhat negated traditional morality, as well as the concept of duty.

Christianity came along and borrowed from ancient systems, especially Stoic, Platonic and

Peripatetic ideas of what constitutes morality. The Stoic is of course suffused with the idea of

duty, the Platonist with some sort of individual quest for the Good as a metaphysical

absolute, and the Peripatetic with his golden mean. I myself am part Epicurean, part

Platonist, which may seem a curious mix, but there really is no contradiction.

Throughout the Renaissance, Epicures were rather foolishly equated with gluttons or men

consumed by lust, which says more about the standards of the time. Clearly men did not

think mental activities were the highest pleasure. Yet this can easily be squared with the

Platonic quest for the Good. Epicureanism is decent and noble, Stoicism is a little harsh, and

Peripatetism produces mediocrities. Meanwhile Platonism is the impetus behind Christian

mysticism.

Morals should be viewed always with regard to their intellectual history. Never let an

adversary in popular parlance declare that you take an ‘immoral path’, without closely

examining exactly what they mean and the hidden assumptions. A Platonic Epicurean is

unlikely to get on with a Stoic.

XVI. Thoughts on Man

‘This hour a slave, the next a deity’ Alexander Pope

‘I have known multitudes of those who would have been monks in the age of monkery, who

in this deistical age are deists’ William Blake

Man is an exceedingly complex creature, commensurate with our neurological

sophistication. Our situation, or point in time and space, is perhaps less important than our

inner disposition – given that an age has its own characteristics and biases. Broadly

speaking, one can be a king in beggarly conditions, or a mental prisoner with a kingly title.

Why did Milton have the arch-antagonist say ‘the mind is its own place and in itself, can

make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven’? Surely as the greatest statement of irony, for his

ultimate realisation is that ‘which way I fly is hell; myself am hell’. Environment generally

reflects our metaphysical disposition, in the broadest sense – a joyous saint in poverty, or a

scholar in moderate surroundings; or indeed, a materialist distracted by possessions.

Man varies considerably, yet we must count this variation as a blessing – as with Chaucer’s

wonderful group of pilgrims, which Blake described as ‘the characters which compose all

ages and nations’. Man can be considered as a limited number of fixed archetypes, yet

within those archetypes are infinitesimal variation. Everyone is, after all, a unique individual,

never to be exactly replicated, striving in his little world of man against the elements.

Ultimately, man is a product of his inner disposition who is nevertheless shaped by his time.

He is uniquely placed to interpret his own time through the lens of his dominant character

and personality, and this gives him a somewhat unique perspective throughout the ages. We

should listen to the voices of the past – and help mould the voices of the future.