About Reality

“Joy is the goal of existence, and joy is not to be stumbled upon, but to be achieved, and the act of treason is to let its vision drown in the swamp of the moment’s torture.”

Ayn Rand

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About Hank

“You’ve got to be kind…”
“I’m not.”
“You’ve got to have some pity.”
“I haven’t.”
“A good man knows how to forgive.”
“I don’t.”
“You wouldn’t want me to think that you’re selfish.”
“I am.”

“But don’t I have any freedom of speech?”
“In your own house. Not in mine.”
“Don’t I have a right to my own ideas?”
“At your own expense. Not at mine.”
“Don’t you tolerate any differences of opinion?”
“Not when I’m paying the bills.”
Ayn Rand
 

About Pure Happiness

“In what act or thought of his has there ever been a self?
What was his aim in life? Greatness – in other people’s eyes. Fame, admiration, envy – all that which comes from others. Others dictated his convictions, which he did not hold, but he was satisfied that others believed he held them. Others were his motive power and his prime concern. He didn’t want to be great, but to be thought great. It’s his ego that he’s betrayed and given up. And isn’t that the root of every despicable action? Not selfishness, but precisely the absence of a self.
Look at them. The man who cheats and lies, but preserves a respectable front. He knows himself to be dishonest, but others think he’s honest and he derives his self-respect from that, second-hand. The man who takes credit for an achievement which is not his own. He knows himself to be mediocre, but he’s great in the eyes of others. The man who wants money for a personal purpose – to invest in his industry, to create, to study, to travel, to enjoy luxury – he’s completely moral. But the men who place money first go much beyond that. Personal luxury is a limited endeavor. What they want is ostentation: to show, to stun, to entertain, to impress others. They’re second handers. Aren’t they all acting on a selfish motive – to be noticed, liked, admired – by others? They place others above self… in the exact manner which altruism demands. A truly selfish man cannot be affected by the approval of others. He doesn’t need it!
It is so easy to run to others. It is so hard to stand on one’s own record. You can fake virtue for an audience. You can’t fake it in your own eyes. Your ego is your strictest judge. They run from it. They spend their lives running. It’s simple to seek substitutes for competence – such easy substitutes: love, charm, kindness, charity. But there is no substitute for competence.
That, precisely, is the deadliness of second-handers. They have no concern for facts, ideas, work. They’re concerned only with people. They don’t ask ‘Is this true?’ They ask: ‘Is this what others think is true?’ Not to judge, but to repeat. Not to do, but to give the impression of doing. Not creation, but show. Not merit, but pull. When you suspend your faculty of independent judgement, you suspend consciousness. To stop consciousness is to stop life. Second-handers have no sense of reality.
Look at everyone around us. You’ve wondered why they suffer, why they seek happiness and never find it… If any man stopped and asked himself whether he’s ever held a truly personal desire… he’d see that all his wishes, his efforts, his dreams, his ambitions are motivated by other men. He’s not even struggling for material wealth, but for the second-hander’s delusion – PRESTIGE. A stamp of approval, not his own. He can find no joy in the struggles and no joy when he has succeeded. He can’t say about a single thing: ‘This is what I wanted because I WANTED IT, not because it made my neighbors gape at me. Then he wonders why he’s unhappy. Every form of happiness is private. Our greatest moments are personal, self-motivated, not to be touched.
I think the only cardinal evil on earth is that of placing your prime concern within other man. I’ve always demanded a certain quality in the people I liked. Now I know what it is. A self-sufficient ego. I COULD DIE FOR YOU. BUT I COULDN’T AND WOULDN’T LIVE FOR YOU!”
 
Ayn Rand / The Fountainhead

About Flesh

About Flesh

“Do you know what you are actually in love with? Integrity. The impossible. The clean, consistent, reasonable, self-faithful, the all-of-one-style, like a work of art. That’s the only field where it can be found – art. But you want it in the flesh.”

Ayn Rand

About Existence

About Existence
Genesis
You were made at the intersection of Gold and Planets. Your spark was life before it had a heartbeat.
You were the perfection gods’ minds can’t reach. You were the fully said words people not dare confess. You were the music that heaven hears in its dreams and leaves its memory painfully speechless. You were Lucifer who denied hell and burnt it into flowers.
You were not God and you were not Adam, you were their master!
You created reality in a single touch, on Earth, not in an empty promise after death. You did not know death and death did not know you. You created truth before eternity because you knew that truth lasted longer than any eternity. You created the right and not the fare.
You created life.
Day 1
When my naked feet touched the freshly born Nordic harbors, it sent a crystal shiver into my heart, splitting the muscle into little pieces screaming into my veins.  I felt that life wasn’t possible here, I was a scared Eve, out in the cold air, breathing panic. I had been broken a few times before I saw you. You, the ancient fallen world’s antagonism!
Your pure existence demanded I had a purpose. Your creation of right made anything else a lie, unless spoken, unless shaped into the ruthless truth. You asked about my life’s vision without any words. I had forgotten how to recognize a God because of the few lifetimes when I had stopped looking for one. In your perfection, you could have never been a slave to the world, in your truth you could have only been a God.
You saw my despair but you didn’t know of such things. You didn’t know I was looking for perfection and I wanted to give my life to it. You had never left your Olympus, you didn’t know such weaknesses exist. I had been living for too long without hope of ever finding it. I needed something, someone, to give my life to, so you gave me another day. Because you kissed me with the perfection of your mind, you gave me my sight back.
Day 2
When you took me to the beach I knew that your feet were anchoring the Earth and that the planets moved after the straight lines of your body. The wind avoided your cheeks, not to stain them, the sand drew back from your feet, the waves bowed to your voice. I knew you couldn’t see all this from the height of your thoughts, you were too clean. Your hands drew stars, an invisible habit to you, sparks of forgotten magic to me.
You came behind me and wrapped your arms around the horizon line. You said that the sun burns only those who fear it. But I feared you more than I feared the sun, my heart was racing in becoming dust. It was the first pain that brought me back to life.
Day 3
“What do you dream of?” you asked.
“Distances!” I said. “… to the Sun…to Jupiter’s Moon, Europa. Planets, Moons, Galaxies. I dream about stopping the time in my volitation.”
You did, while awake.
You painted the walls of the first house on earth in the color of my dark eyes. I wanted us trapped in there, so you created the rest of the world in the palm of your hands, outside our windows:  Nordic blizzards and auroras, endless rains and bird songs, sunsets and poems, wine and candles. The essentials.
While you were working, the skies filled up with music, the first language of the worlds.
I was haunted by the memory of the emptiness of the world before you created it. I remember carrying this burden, thinking: “If I were to find you, I would give my life for a second of pure admiration … I would give you everything and it would not be enough of a sacrifice, enough to redeem the purity your mind holds without knowing how scornful and shallow all the worlds around us are… without ever knowing it because it couldn’t be conceived inside you to start with…”
You touched my cheek and told me not to fear… you created our bed, shortening the distances in my dreams, stopping the time. I knew that genesis will take longer than 7 days.
And there was not a single second without justification. There was despair growing between us: we wanted to own each other’s lives, to put everything in words.
Day 4
When we laid in bed together it was an endless rebirth of possessions, of purity, of the desires first shaped in Atlantis.
It was your hands everywhere, moving in perfection, your fingers in my mouth. I wanted to rip off  your skin, your muscles, break your bones inside me. You demanded my life and I demanded yours because it was completeness. It was violence filling up the roofs of our sheets, you were lost, almost humanly, in my long hair. We were both slaves and gods and our screams were filling up your skies, the depths of oceans, the peaks of mountains, with thunders and peace and this is what our love was made of.
Every corner of the world was banishing loneliness out of existence. It was the only time we prayed… for oblivion to come before orgasm. It was painful to remember that the world existed as it did with us two feeling its other dimension, that of endless perfection. It weighed heavy on my eyelids, this rebirth, an untold one. This is how secrets came into being, something above the common, trapped inside the silver shell of our beautiful egoism. “Gather enough of these,” you said, “and you’ll become a saint!”
It was the first time I cried: all the other people lived in the reverse sense of words and their holiness was a lie!
Day 5
I asked you to tell me the story of Heaven and Hell and you laughed the laugh of Gods. People feared that echo, they said it was the end of the world.
You said there is no Heaven and Hell. You said there is no other reality beside that which can be touched. You said Reality is what we make when we touch our skins and tongues. You said Reality is better than Heaven and Hell. You said Reality is courage, Heaven and Hell are a given. Courage is what we make when we’re inside one another, sin is when we’re not. And I knew then that I was ready to put my life at your feet. I knew that the real God is that of pleasure and life on this earth is made out of happiness and courage. And this is the truth.
Day 6
You took my hand and walked me through your creation. You said we are all sent to the world to be gods, but we need boldness and lucidity to live up to it. You said the only fallen angels are those who crawl at the gates of other’s kingdoms instead of building their own, in their own view of their own minds. You said that the true gods are those who do not fear their minds and their truth. The true gods are those who own their lives and their perfection. The true gods are proud!
Day 7
You gave me the supreme, purest form of my obsession and so you gave me life and a world for it. You made that world worthy. I gave you my life and you gave me wings for distances not known to men yet.
You walked me on the beaches as your most beloved trophy, and laughed at the world.
They did not know that in my naked selfish lust I received their creation and I was holding it in my palms while I was begging you to own me; you’ve put everything at my feet instead, we were each other’s kings.
Now I can live because I wanted to.
Now I can live because I know Gods exist in the world.
M.

 

About Truthfulness

“Love is reverence, and worship, and glory, and the upward glance. Not a bandage for dirty sores. But they don’t know it. Those who speak of love most promiscuously are the ones who’ve never felt it. They make some sort of feeble stew out of sympathy, compassion, contempt and general indifference, and they call it love. Once you’ve felt what it means to love as you and I know it – total passion for the total height – you’re incapable of anything less.

When they lay in bed together it was–as it had to be, as the nature of the act demanded–an act of violence. It was surrender, made the more complete by the force of their resistance. It was an act of tension, as the great things on earth are things of tension….It was an act of clenched teeth and hatred, it was the unendurable, the agony, an act of passion–the word born to mean suffering–it was the moment made of hatred, tension, pain–the moment that broke its own elements, inverted them, triumphed, swept into a denial of all suffering, into its antithesis, into ecstasy.”

Ayn Rand

About All Sorts of Terrorists

About All Sorts of Terrorists

“You who are worshippers of the zero-you have never discovered that achieving life is not the equivalent of avoiding death. Joy is not ‘the absence of pain,’ intelligence is not ‘the absence of stupidity,’ light is not ‘the absence of darkness,’ an entity is not ‘the absence of a nonentity.’

Existence is not a negation of negatives. Evil, not value, is an absence and a negation, evil is impotent and has no power but that which we let it extort from us. Perish, because we have learned that a zero cannot hold a mortgage over life.

You seek escape from pain. We seek the achievement of happiness. You exist for the sake of avoiding punishment. We exist for the sake of earning rewards. Threats will not make us function; fear is not our incentive. It is not death that we wish to avoid, but life that we wish to live.

“You, who have lost the concept of the difference, you who claim that fear and joy are incentives of equal power-and secretly add that fear is the more ‘practical’-you do not wish to live, and only fear of death still holds you to the existence you have damned. You dart in panic through the trap of your days, looking for the exit you have closed, running from a pursuer you dare not name to a terror you dare not acknowledge, and the greater your terror the greater your dread of the only act that could save you: thinking. The purpose of your struggle is not to know, not to grasp or name or hear the thing. I shall now state to your hearing: that yours is the Morality of Death.”

Ayn Rand