When you are empty , there is nothing you can give. If you have nothing, then you can’t give anyone anything. It’s a simple rule. It applies upon charity and alms-when you have no coin then there’s no coin you can give. Screw those poor people, when we ourselves are poor. Of course that’s plainly obvious, but this concept applies to much more.
The law applies to ideas and knowledge as well, and again it is as plain as day. If I have no idea what the heck is a perfect multicollinearity, then I can never ever tell you about it, unless if I learn about it myself. If I wish to speak about liberalism, then I myself should have read on it, questioned its foundations and principles , and critically evaluate the idea. Of course I can share ideas with others while knowing nothing about it, through mere repetitions, like a parrot. There are hundreds of slogans I can just memorize and rephrase if I wish.
I can say that liberalism is the enemy of the country and religion, and there’s not many people who disagree, because it’s the general idea. I can say that the Penang Chinese are corrupt bastards and I would even get praised for that. But these; mere repetitions of baseless slogans and deceptions are the very signs of emptiness-people who have nothing in their minds , and are envious to the ones who have ideas. Empty ideas are either baseless assumptions or mere lies, and I must not tell lies.
I put great hope in the words of a senior that empty souls can’t give anything to anyone, and I sought to fill myself. I read many kinds of things from many sorts of knowledge, to find something that can fill a soul, so that I can give to others. Reading old books which I can hardly understand feels pretentious as hell, because it really is a phony thing to do. And they do not provide answers to my questions.
Sartre’s Age of Reason, for example, has its characters questioning their very existence, the significance of their lives as stardust, and the relevance of it all. The book only questions, it does not provide answers. Reading a novel about existentialism makes you feel empty, it does not fill you with nourishment.
Chomsky’s work make me feel alienated. He wrote about social libertarianism and Spanish anarchists among other things, of which I have not seen or experience myself. Chomsky quoted Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia in On Anarchism about the Spanish Civil War; “ I have breathed the air of equality”- or something like that, to describe the atmosphere in Catalonia. Can you see how abstractly vague is that? How does the air of equality smell? It doesn’t stink does it? It feels like he’s writing about ghosts and its conceptions, for people who believe in ghosts.
I’m sorry for being such a petty human being. My pettiness is the source of this emptiness, because I cannot appreciate the value of all the small pleasures that I have.
It’s not simple work. Most of the old writings are nearly unintelligible, their writing style archaic as hell, and each line needs to be repeated three times for a minimal understanding of only the general idea of the books. I believed that the Jacobins butchered the Parisians because they could not understand what the heck Rosseau was saying in the Social Contract, and acted out their beliefs based on pure misunderstanding.
Reading these books does not fill the soul. The only thing they fill is the book shelf and my vocabulary of jargon terms.
But then Paulo Freire wrote in his Pedagogy of the Oppressed, that a revolution is an act of love. He says that a revolution, smeared with blood and gunpowder is an act of love, because a revolutionary seeks to free his fellow citizens and comrades from the oppressor out of love and compassion. It is with love that he wishes to free them from the shackles of dictators and despots. Our prophet who brought us Islam is the embodiment of love and compassion, rahmatan lil alamin- he’s the love for the whole universe.
Uzumaki Kushina , when she was about to receive the Kyuubi as a new jinchuriki, the old jinchuuriki, wife of Hashirama told her that the Kyuubi is the embodiment of hate, and she as the vessel must fill herself with love , and happiness.
Of course books alone are not enough. It never was . Never will. In order to fill my soul and be able to give something to you, all I need is love. I need to share ideas on opinions saturated with love and compassion , and a deep interest in human beings. While before I only wrote because I like to write, now I must write like it’s a love letter. If previously I proposed my ideas out of an excessive hunger for debates, now I must speak my words so that I can show you how I see the world, and how amazing I think it is!
But there’s a very big problem. I am not very interested with human beings. Judgemental creatures who think that they have the right to judge and control others. Calculating deviously, talking behind your backs, cunning bastards. Some of them feel that they have the right to decide who I can love , and how do I do so. There is a dedicated group of retarded youths that feels obligated to dictate how their friends love each other, thinking that they are doing God’s work. How can I be interested with such people?
I’m sorry for being an empty person who gives empty words. But I have tried to fill myself, to no avail. Doing all this feels like talking a language that no one understand. It’s also a lonely thing to do , especially when your loved ones decide that it’s better to side with the retarded youths mentioned above.