Beauty – Modern Romanticism

Philosophy – “Why Self-Help Books are Fiction” – 12/28/2021

“Telling a story, especially of another person’s life, is always fiction. It is when that story has been written for togetherness’s sake. When truth is not told, in that story, the deception in its stead will bring unity if only as a short-term distraction. A fiction tale is something that never occurred, and the more a reader to a story is distracted from reality into fantasy, their knowledge of themselves becomes less aware. A story is merely a distraction. Fiction is deception. Seeing ourselves in a character or in the author’s feelings is simply a way to not feel alone with the self’s own burdens.”
– Modern Romanticism

If to tell the truth, then tell it of the self. Understand the self. Then, tear the self apart. Tear your own image, the capturing of yourself upon photographs, into shreds. Shatter your own mirror, your current comprehension of where you reside, both of body and mind.

Self-help books are there to tell a reader that their own faults are not in a scape of loneliness. However, to come to the realization, and then the reminder of what is truthful, being that loneliness, is how any addict ignores the truth or a necessity. Insecurity is addicted to the concept of blending another with the self, without inherently comprehending it in automation. As in, we are insecure when we must be reminded that we are not alone.

All people are subject to insecurity. No one is immune. Writing this as a hypocrite, there are always the addictions, to all persons, to differing mirrors at different directions. At those directions, we believe we might see something different from ourselves, because our addiction to fleeing loneliness has kept us broken. In being broken, we want a new story. We crave comparison and also contrast from the details to our life. Soon, we begin to see if we are special, even in our sorrows. However, all those directions will lead to the same people with their pair of broken arms. They each weep, without difference.

We are all selfish, when we want to be reminded of our suffering. When that happens, we remind someone else, without knowing it, of their suffering.

To alleviate suffering, we should know truth by knowing it at the first glance and the first direction we face.

Self-help books have a market on the insecurities of others. One is not enough, through the same mindset of an addict for cigarettes. When does an addict stop with one dosage? One might think if that were the case, they were never an addict. Purchasing one self-help book is no more the difference to hoarding a collection of novels from differing authors. However, while a novel will be truthful, at least in the sense of being described as fiction, a self-help book deceives in stating that it is non-fiction. How is a self-help book non-fiction, when it does not tell the truth?

Self-help books do only two things:

They remind a reader of their loneliness.
They tell a reader to not feel alone.

Inevitably, the former overlaps onto the latter, becoming its dominant. That is because the addiction to self-help books is never fulfilling. No addiction is fulfilling. Addictions are merely a placeholder for a necessity. In this lack of fulfillment, being reminded of loneliness is the constant or the plural to the singular of being told the reader is not alone. That is, the reminder is what stays as the addiction being against or being the dominant to the truth of their loneliness.

As an addict ignores what it is they need, then so does a reader to self-help books. And what is needed is to tear apart the self to see the wounds, up-close. One must be able to smell the blood that perspires, the flesh that looks the most ragged. One must be able to feel their pain, and then shiver in a cold sweat. Although, anxiety has never killed. Insecurity never kills. It merely feels that way.

Being addicted to what never tells the truth for how wrong a person is, is common. This is to say that self-help books enable people.

Be miserable, if it is needed. Be depressed, if it is needed. If you must comprehend how sick you are, then do not deign yourself in running from it.

And do not run from others who are also sick in their own way, only to return another day to hear another story.

Philosophy – “Why Love Conquers All” – 12/21/2021

“No one can regret to love. Because, to love wasn’t a choice. When we look back upon the first time we held a hand, can we analyze the circumstance? Can we ever come a conclusion or reason for that moment? Or is that merely us doubting what is has grown into something spectacular?”
– Modern Romanticism

Love is not a choice. We did not choose to love another, in the similar way we cannot predict when we will love, again. In the way we cannot predict when we will ever love, is also for how we cannot foretell the moment we will die. What has love done for us? It has done nothing. If we love humans, then we cannot put them to use without forgetting their humanity. What is humanity? Humanity is the place of the dysfunctional or unpredictable. If everything merely works or is considered functional, then humanity will be against that vision. Among everything a person chooses will be for the predictable, in terms of function.

Are humans predictable? We are not. Although, love will conquer the broken. Love will heal what was used, until betrayal was realized. However, we cannot predict that moment of truth. We can understand when we were deceived. Although, we cannot understand why it was the case, now when our love remains as a haunting memory. We loved a deceiver, or we had loved a human. We loved either human or demon, though this perception of their evil is an imperfect one. We perceive evil in a person who is as broken as ourselves.

We cannot say an evil person isn’t hurting. Such a false insight would be the same to ignore what will damage a person, in the first place. It is hurt that causes hurt, the same way that violence breeds further violence. If a person fell from the broken ladder, then it was because the ladder had been damaged to hurt someone else.

Why isn’t love a choice, as the main reason? It is because the only option to someone who is hurting is to no longer be saddened by negative memories. That is, if one’s intent is to find peace, love will answer that desperation. Love is within everything good of a memory. Love is to forgive the negative, while finding good in something even evil. “What had caused a person to end up this way?” should be the prominent question. Be empathetic.

It takes courage to not see the self as the only one suffering. It takes greater courage to see the one who hurt you as someone who is also damaged. Once the latter is accomplished, the hurtful person whom we fear becomes a lot less of a terror. We then begin to see ourselves in them. In understanding their hurt as simply human, we can forgive them.

Philosophy Series – “Of Art” – On Eternity – Pt. 1 – 12/15/2021

“Not in the moment, though in the past. A direction is the same as a reflection into something indiscernible and blurred, though made comprehensive and clear when drawn for the future.”
– Modern Romanticism

There is never something so beautiful as what a person can forgive. Then, each angle is not so much needed to be plain for view. Every crease and angle, among other imperfections, were always there. We comprehend now that we had simply been blinded to them. History takes us into places that could be dark, though are merely the most misunderstood realms. Art is the intrusion upon our illusions, of what holds history encased in a frame. An intrusion, that is, upon what we wanted to stay as peace, though was always a momentary sliver of escapism. A person escapes, not from the future, though from the past. The one who is unwilling to face what is before them is in fear that what will arise from their actions will only repeat their past mistakes.

Eternity is not to the future, though to the past. Art is eternal, in this description. Art conveys what we did not wish to know. That is, truth. All humans resist the truth, since it is a far easier method to see deception as the clarity. From ease to complication, there is a singular difference between deceit and truth. The difference is that the truth will be complex to accept, though will clear the life and mind of its complications. Whereas deceit will be easiest to accept, though will cause within both life and mind innumerable complexities.

Deceit is the spiderweb, indeed meant for the fly to become tangled. What is art, for all this? Art is the place of memory. Again, art is the truth that a person resists, due to the common feeling that history should be ignored. However, when history is embraced, we forgive its troubles that had caused us to live only in the moment, apart from fearing our mistake’s own repetition.

There are our roots. Art acknowledges this. All dark places within history tell us something to be forgiven. Why would the abstraction of an artwork need to place a mote of directness upon what is imperfect, when the art, itself, is already so? Art is imperfect, thus it will be changed when discontent, to the artist, wishes there to be something new. Though, the act of replacement cannot be for the space of what will remain, until it receives such forgiveness. When we forgive, we comprehend another person or thing as fragile as ourselves. Forgiveness allows someone to see rigidness, brokenness, and edges that had existed, though along with a person ignoring truth, they have resisted noticing it.

In the eternity being of art, the past is never more certain than what is ordered within the painting or other work. The artist has ordered their personal history into the piece. Otherwise, the artist has ordered what is believed by themselves to not be understood of the past, then turning it apart from its chaotic place among another’s perceptions. Although, their so-called version of order cannot put directness upon the understanding of imperfection. To imperfection, it is not meant to be direct. We do not notice it, because it is beneath the flesh. That is, it is beneath what a person first notices. If art counteracts a person’s blindness to imperfection by making it direct in the artwork, then the artist has misunderstood that all judgmental humans have seen the flaw, before. To see it, again, would cause them to ignore it, once again. The only option left to the artist is to force understanding into the judgmental person by changing the world to appear directly imperfect. Instead, what should occur to reveal, upon the art, is something far more intrinsic and subtle for the viewer. This is to stage the allowance for the viewer to see truth, as though it was not seen before. As human imperfection is their truth or personal history, forgiveness is the more likely outcome when the art can tell a story. Since subtlety is opposite from being direct, then it will not be a simple reminder. It will be, for the judgmental viewer, something relatable to themselves.

What art or what world can cure the process of a person being deceived by their own limited perceptions, if not through the creations that would allow a person to think for a second time? If at the first time, truth had been to a judgmental human as something to only think on, per those judgements, then the second time will allow them to think again, in not being the simple reminder to what they have always judged. Art is true, when it can clarify the past for unity between one viewer to the next. Each reflection will notice the same thing.

Quote – “What Makes Art Eternal?” – 12/1/2021

“Art, the past. Art, the memory. Love, the art, because art cannot be forgotten. That art will bring the memories, painful and despairing, a deserved soft peace. Led into comfort, through art. Led into Heaven, through art. Art is eternal, because a memory cannot be forgotten. No, it can only be accepted. What changes the past? Nothing does. What changes something so beautiful, as what is meant to be art? Nothing should. A change upon beauty would erode it, damage it. Are we always accepting of such damages? We are not. But those damages will be seen in the art, nevertheless. Those imperfections had been sculpted, and they had made us notice ourselves, of what history did to hurt us. If nothing should change beauty, then improvement or healing will require knowing ourselves. To know ourselves as wounded and pained, and then to see the art that is the mirror. Art is eternal in what reflects.”
– Modern Romanticism

Love Quote – “Love, more Maddening than Lust” – 11/12/2021

“There are no fires that burn so strongly as within the furnace of love that warms hands that are cold even in the morning. There are no other pair of eyes that remain with their presence, their ungulfing stare, as those loving ones that drown what they view. Let love capture you, let love swarm you, for it will remember you. Lust forgets. Lust is a passing image, not the reflection that never leaves. As lust will skip over the heart, love will gather its scattered pieces to create a mosaic that is the beloved and lover, both. Love never wishes to die, because it is the only thing it is incapable of.”
– Modern Romanticism

Philosophy – “What Insecurity Does to a Person or People” – 10/11/2021

“Life can be simplified down to the two extremes to follow, if there’s no notion of balance. To be brought towards excess, or to be content to the oneness of truth. To fade into the realm of pleasure, or to comprehend that with truth there could be no discontent without something similar to infidelity.”
– Modern Romanticism

Insecurity follows the road of lies. Those who lead their lives through insecurity are contented with the lies, can believe that ugliness is the same as something beautiful, or to say that living is the same as being dead.

A materialistic nature is objective deception. Materialists are deceivers, since nothing can represent the eternal of what is made to vanish. Our flesh is material, though with a physical nature to it, insecurity is applied through the lustful mindset that craves more of it. It becomes then that the materialist is no different than the compulsive shopper, not ever contented because of lacking the adherence to truth. Through deception, a materialist believe that everything disappears.

If everything vanishes, then nothing is loved. Love is what makes the breakable as unbreakable. Along with making all things once impossible as possible, it allows what was once possible to be impossible for its occurrence. Through knowing what is impossible can be possible, along with what is possible can be impossible, contentment is the result.

Each thing beautiful is what would change, without love. Love is the force of the universe that negates the understanding of change, though the materialist would believe all things begin to alter. Through the materialist mindset, there is no comprehension that human longing is the greatest of illness. Human longing changes the self. Nothing else is altered, except for the self through this sickness of yearning when it is what is being longed for that is expected to not have changed.

All of beauty, on its own, is change. It is the uncontrollable change in the seasons, or the woman who becomes old to no longer dress herself so cleanly nor tidy her hair in the most proper fashion. How many artists remember the prior season, yearn to capture it, because the memory of it did not change? How many men look upon their beloved woman, who became old over so many years, viewing her as still the same in the complexion and glow of youth? Nothing changes, when something is loved.

Though, it is a fear to humans to love. Would not the insecurity be negated, since it is also a fear, when love is truly comprehended of itself? To the loving mind, nothing changes, even when the physical aspects have. Even when someone, who is loved, has died, the love remains to remind an individual of that person’s preciousness.

It can be said that when the insecure person has an immense yearning, they have been in the state of themselves to change. It is of themselves, that in being once beautiful, have turned themselves towards deception. Their changes are within. As beauty is truth when it is loved, it becomes a deception when it always changes. If an insecure person longs, then their yearning is being stretched towards a living thing with a mind that did remember them. It becomes soon a necessity to move on towards change.

Philosophy – “Where Humans are not meant to Store Emotions” – 9/7/2021

“No human, the doll, the tinkered instrument meant to snap either of strings to physical realness or of blinding gullibility, will perpetually be the case. All humans, the sponge, the tank flooded within that will break no matter the toughness of exterior. There is no skin the metal, nor face the mask that can guard nor conceal all things that do not hide on the surface.”
– Modern Romanticism

Weakness is not an insult. Weakness is our humanity. We are weak, when we do not want to be any longer strong. What a person protects within is always for the desire to strike out upon another, deemed weaker. The bully we can become craves to punish, even though a bully is weak, themselves. Human beings are cresting waves, as the shore is the shoulder. Tears are what push us to the brink, to the edge, that we cannot hold ourselves within. Since to hold ourselves within, is to keep humanity buried. Humans are the waves that are following a singular path. At some point, we crash, we fall, and it is the shoreline that listens.

Philosophy – “Why People do not Expect Forgiveness” – 8/21/2021

“The cycle of vengeance goes as such: playing catch with a ball that is hurled to the other, in the full expectation that it will be thrown back. Without smiles nor the friendly chatter, the tosses back and forth break the bones and burst the vessels of the other’s soul. Neither are stronger than the other, as they are equally weakened. Neither is better than the other, and then no better to the other.”
– Modern Romanticism

Forgiveness is the superior weapon to vengeance, though not an instrument that proceeds on ongoing “progressive” nature that ends up in depletion. Whatever is limited of a human, machine, or generation will define this regression or downwards spiral, to being nothing better because nothing will be better than another thing nor better to another thing.

Philosophy – “Beneath the Skin – Understanding Equality” – 6/25/2021

“There is much that bleeds, within. Beyond the shield that stops us, beyond the preference we hold to be different Bibles, there is a light that warms us with the same understanding of reality.”
– Modern Romanticism

Sameness. It is a word that understands the earth, beneath the layers, beneath the cloak. Beneath what guards, love is unconditional. Though humans will place conditions upon the various, depicting their preference in what is known to what is unknown. We are prejudiced in what we are ignorant towards, not for what is understood. Not everything can be understood, until we empathize.

Until we recognize ourselves in another, that for what we hate is the same as what is despised of ourselves, we are prejudiced. We are distant. Distrusting of others, because we failed to reach deeper.

All people bleed the same color, as we all drown at the same depth. We are pained at the same harmonies played upon our bones, broken at the same amount of fragments.

What is love? It can be said that love sees. It knows. Among all there is to love, there is everything to be known. Though, it is for people, that there is understanding to them, the same as ourselves. Believing in love is the same as believing in what was never real, denied to be, until it shapes itself in what was always known.

Crippled are we, in our ignorance. We are equal, within the pages that are innumerable. No ending to a sentence is the final chapter to a tale. No final breath means that a person can no longer speak.

Equal are we, in love. Within love, within arms, all comes to circle back to ourselves. We can blame ourselves for our ignorance, in not seeing a heart, damaged in the same state of ourselves. We become challenged to break another further, or to break ourselves as the wave upon their shoreline. To hurt further, or to weep upon their shoulder.

Philosophy – “How People Take Life for Granted” – 5/18/2021

“It is always through the recognition of what is vulnerable, for what can easily be stripped free from our awareness, that makes a person take nothing of its preciousness for granted.”
– Modern Romanticism

“Nothing in life is free,” as such is the clear saying from those who have lost, nearly lost, or have kept to what remains so that it never becomes lost. Such a quote would refer to what life does not offer, being its freedom as a gift. Since pain, unto loss, is always the most bountiful discipline, we recognize one thing of both ourselves and each other, for how each of us is equal: vulnerability.

Through vulnerability, we recognize what can easily disappear, to never return. Through vulnerability, we can comprehend our own strengths. We can understand that were we to naively believe nothing can go wrong, then this is to take a preciousness for granted. To what we hold to be precious, means that in the identification for its meaning to us, that it is fragile. Just as a mother would not want her child to die, so she protects them, clings to him, keeps them close.

There are those, however, who would view a thing, such as one’s “rights” as meant to be permanent. Though, if this is to believe a right is not, instead, a privilege, then one can believe such a concept as a “right” is meant to be permanent. Would we take our rights, or our freedoms for granted? If so, then we become a slave.

To take life for granted is to become a slave, because we will naively blunder across it committing the same mistakes, to never learn. It is to take something for granted, that we believe such a “preciousness” to be faultless. How can anything be faultless, without fragility, if we are claiming it to hold meaning to us? And, if it holds meaning, then we’d protect it only because, like life, it can disappear without that guardianship.

What right is not earned? What life is not earned? What person so enslaved, doesn’t become freed to relive the days when they were simply free?

To victimize the self, to then believe others are at fault for one’s own irresponsibility, is to take life for granted. It is to renounce the freedom of being responsible, of having control over the outcome of one’s own life. Would one not keep hold upon self-reliance, one makes themselves the slave to external governance. Life is taken for granted, when we do not believe we are ever at fault. We take ourselves for granted, when we believe us to always be innocent or victimized in every scenario. We become a slave, because to take ourselves for granted is remain ignorant to what lessons can be learned from mistakes, and thus, remain dependent on external governance over one’s life.

Though, to find another person to be precious, to believe someone so close to the self as literal family or close to it, can be faultless, means one never cared for them. It is to take one’s loved ones for granted, in believing them perfect as they are, by never associating their imperfections and flaws with the self through the employment of human empathy.

Life is taken for granted, when a person believes it is or should be faultless and without concern. People become or remain as slaves when they have fled from or renounced the greatest of life’s chores, which is to earn one’s freedom. As freedom is earned, through being responsible, a person becomes as identifiable to anyone else who attained the same level. That same level, attained through the correct path, which would pertain to being equal to them by such hardship it took to acquire it. Though, even at such a level where freedom is earned, to drop one’s guard, to cease protection upon what is viewed to be precious, makes one vulnerable to those who might strip these earnings away. This is equality, by realizing that one’s vulnerability is how a person both suffers and becomes strong when past such hardship.

Philosophy – “The Infinity of Love & the Universe” – 5/5/2021

“Displace yourself from what the skies know, to all your arms have carried. You know, in your heart, the human nature that demands to keep carrying. Beneath the Heavens, and we catch the rain.”
– Modern Romanticism

Love is, what humans aren’t. A divine element of the universe, unable to be totally fathomed by the human mind. To define it, is to know infinity.

Science explains love, through origin. The Big Bang. Anytime to explain the Big Bang on how something “forms from nothing”, is to realize how love works.

And we are strongest when we feel the other, not just ourselves. Beyond just ourselves, we love. To ourselves, we are fragile, vulnerable in all we wield and carry. Discarding such a load, is to let another wield it. To let them, because we are vulnerable. To love, and then to be loved is never to feel the self. To love, is always to feel who we are loving.

Blinded, only because we no longer see our own reflection. Ignorant and blissful, because we are no longer self-aware, through love. It is by limits, where we comprehend what hurts, within. It is then by the eternal, where we lose ourselves in the arms of another.

It is not love that can be limited, though limits us.

We are limited by love, though when loved, we are eternal in their minds. To die, is to be loved, forever. Love is origin, though reverts back to a realization for objective goodness, in the forgiveness to all that was the beloved’s opposite, upon death. We forgive the bad, to remember the good, within the origin love represents.

Origin. Of love. Limited by it, because we are not God. Imperfect, when full of truth. Perfect, when full of lies.

And, we are ever unable to limit love, through how we have no power over it. It limits us, through our inability to comprehend who remembers us, what loved ones recall us, upon our death.

Death is the only limit by what love, itself, cannot go through.

Philosophy – “Why Humans are Beautiful and Imperfect” – 4/27/2021

“All arrogance behind human nature is where we find ourselves not as imperfect, beautiful creatures, and here willing to forsake what makes us ephemeral, in the vain desire to be more.”
– Modern Romanticism

It is in the aspect of knowing oneself, that to comprehend the self is to realize where one is limited, that one might then find out what they’re capable of doing. Whether to be in love, or to be all alone, and we find ourselves within the former to be closest to perfect as possible. Whereas, through the latter, in our imperfections, in our loneliness, we bare the greatest wounds.

A barrier, that to our ability to trust, makes us limited, and yet, still shows us to be beautiful. Beauty is the very understanding of human limitation. Were a woman, perhaps, to know how beautiful she is, she’d then not aspire to become more than just that. Though, beyond the beauty of any human, comes the vanity and arrogance that attempts to supersede a lifetime’s worth of errors. Does a woman realize, in her heart of hearts, what she wants? Has what she truly requires even come to pass? That, she might throw herself upon a place of unkindness and manipulation, only ever to revive herself for a mere moment. It is only afterwards that she falls backwards into another place, called “longing”.

It is seen in many places. Beyond being beautiful, what we do is vain and needless, in essence. Although, ambition is where a person gains power. As it is, power must be limited. Then, if power is to be limited, then ambition, too. Love resides upon the shoulders of a one, in the comprehension that strength lies not in the ability to understand themselves through infinite gain. Love rests upon the shoulder of the individual who carries their weight. Love resides with the one who pleads for the world to see their wounds, and then might unload.

We invite conflict, were we to not grasp this. In the ambitious display of wanting control or power, we find ourselves wanting to be beyond a “mere” human. Though, it is always in the return, to what we feel, to what we have been hiding from, that to be human is where we find the truest consolation. A broken heart allows us to devour love. A divide, within the red, allows us to pour, to overflow.

Beauty is where we find ourselves. A reflection, with a tempest, with a rainfall. Of tears, of shared histories, of absence never met with the place of another’s touch.