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.
