Just as a child studying pure mathematics tries to look for the usefulness of it and starts talking about its practical utility and upon not finding it and feeling disgusted at knowing its uselessness he throws it away either for decades or for his whole life, something like that happens with literature when the radical critic opens it and finds that he does not smell what he was looking for: the smell of his political ideology, his vision for social justice, and the fight against oppression. If in a text he finds such smell, he raises the praise of that text to be nothing less than the higher limits of human creativity, but if he does not find it, he crushes it under his feet.
To be free as not to be trapped in the net of ideologies or narratives, let alone being their mouthpiece, nor to be the servant of certain personality traits -- at best to absent the ego under such unavoidable circumstances. This clown "I" wishes to create something new, scientifc or artistic, that has an organic relationship with humans. Our creation is a pseudo-creation in comparion to that of God, the universe. If Allah is simultaneously invisible and everywhere in relation to His creation, we need not necessarily assert our own selves in our pseudo-creations. Sometimes, in order to receive what life has to offer, we have to decelerate the accelerator of our ego.
Neither indulge too much in literature as to forget living and the social reality, nor in metaphysics as to forget the gift of faith in the name of rationality, nor in psychology as to forget seeing the normality in human beings. Nor too much in the world order as to make your daily life a hell by criticizing capitalistic order, terrorism, nuclear wars, cyber wars, military wars, political affairs, governmental affairs, dictatorships, militarial industries, communist and other revolutions, human traffiking, corruption, genocides, bombardment of images and videos, etc.
My writing has strayed from the assumption of needing to have some real-life person in mind to be able to write, and sometimes it does not even mirror my own life, it starts to seek abstract beauty, the essense of literature. A stage where I do not think or feel or imagine or intuite any form of object or a person. Stuck a true balance between sensitivity and the observations in life. Through merely an acute observation of my life and the life of other human beings. By realizing philosophy instead of philosophying reality. By being sensitively active instead of contemplative.
However, I shall continue with my prayers with the childlike methods I use to pray. I shall say dua in the words I have been doing since childhood. I shall satire as I have been doing all my life. I shall continue falling in love with all the good things like computers, games, literature. Good human beings. I shall keep a childlike curiosity in the smallest details and mundane matters of daily life. I shall worry excessively sometimes at some problems. I shall accept boredom and find new way every day to cope up with it in a good way. I shall get angry at stupid arguments, laugh and appreciate good things. I shall continue criticizing the world order, while I feel like doing so, despite knowing I can barely change it. On some days I shall keep quiet, to be in a mood where I feel all is vanity, reach the deepest of my soul and talk to it, produce some literature, and then start talking a lot, involve myself in distractions, accept the life of people -- its beauties, consumerism, fights, beliefs, and jokes -- of people around me and live with them in accordance with it. Assimilate the good things. In all cases, I must, and it is very hard for me, perform my religious duties, form a closer connection with Allah, and hopefully realize the higher purpose of (my) life.
February 7, 2024