Camus on the Spiritual

"Whatever we may do, excess will always keep its place in the heart of man, in the place where solitude is found. We all carry within us our places of exile, our crimes and our ravages. But out task is not to unleash them on the world; it is to fight them in ourselves and in others. Rebellion, the secular will not to surrender of which Barres speaks, is still today at the basis of the struggle. Origin of form, source of real life, it keeps us always erect in the savage, formless movement of history."

What does Camus mean when he marries excess and solitude in the church of the human heart?

Camus on Rebellion and Man

Camus introduces The Rebel:

"...the reasons for rebellion cannot be explained except in terms of an inquiry into its attitudes pretensions, and conquests. Perhaps we may discover in its achievements the rule of action that the absurd has not been able to give us; an indication, at least, about the right or the duty to kill and, finally, hope for anew creation. Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is. The problem is to know whether this refusal can only lead to the destruction of himself and of others, whether all rebellion must end in the justification of universal murder, or whether, on the contrary, without laying claim to an innocence that is impossible, it can discover the principle of reasonable culpability."

Let's hope he finds a solution.

Hamlet on the Subjugation of Beauty to Self

".... indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erchanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire: why, it appeareth nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors. What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god: the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals; and yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me; nor woman neither...."

Love in the time of Boredom

I once told friends that life around me tasted bland, like my mind's tongue had turned into a dusty piece of cardboard. I feel now that I was right. But I can't help from thinking how hackneyed my feelings are, how utterly and exactly average. At the risk of sounding like I need gallons of self-pity poured down my throat, i recall a time when I went to the doctor in high school for a check up and was confused to hear that I was exactly average height and average weight; someone please tell me I have average sentiments as well. Thankfully I have been successfully bred to have a violent gut-reaction to average-ness, so that I feel horrible about it. In a society where labeling is a thinly-veiled substitute for intellect and value, the paradox seems to be lost on everyone including me, or, rather, its simply accepted and brushed under the rug.

What is needed is a firm, irrefutable passion to walk through the door wearing robes of thyme and singing odes of joy at the top of its translucent lungs that fill the entire room, wall to wall. I need to drown in an endless golden pond, going down and down to its depths weighted by my own, seeing singing fish holding lutes with their mouths full; a lightness like day-dreaming. Mmm... cloudberries. I'm glad I no nothing of poetry. Imagine the trouble I'd get in if I did.

I just read that McCain proposed forming an organization of true "democratic" states to promote and protect the democratic spirit, something he says the UN is hopelessly failing at. Discuss.