Are These Thoughts His Or Mine? Oh Well, At The Very Least They Exist.
At the firing of the last neuron, the great question will be asked. The answer will be . Affix yourself firmly in this life. There is no other. Ensure that when your synapses dull and your heart breaks, you will be blissfully unconcerned with the existence of something supernatural - something beyond the laws of nature by which each of us is invariably bound.
Gnaw at yourself. Give yourself no rest.
I am always available to myself. How else should my time be spent? Yet, surely one cannot philosophise in one's sleep? I have awoken with a clearer head that that before I slept more times than I can count. Frequently, if I am stuck fast in some problem I advise myself to rest, confident that when I come to I will be wading ahead once more. I slept maybe four times before finishing this train of thought. Indeed, I am probably asleep at this very moment. Our minds are fantastic when we sleep. Unfalsifiable? Perhaps - yet true regardless.
Can my thoughts - more often instincts - be generalised to all others? I should think not, yet it seems safe to assume greater similarity between individuals than differences. My exact social opposite - an uneducated, unprivileged, impoverished individual from some region ravaged by revolutionary saviours and malaria - will rightly not be concerned with those things I direct myself toward. They have more pressing matters to attend to. My physical opposite - a short, muscular woman of advanced age - may care most for the time she and her body have left together on this earth. My psychological opposite - a religious (yes, 'HE' is here amongst psychology), unconcerned individual phased by nothing save death - may waste their life ensuring safety in a presumed second. I do not think these individuals who are most different from myself will care one jott for the things I have to think. Nevertheless, we are more alike than we are not, so I will think them for us all.
Become what you are, having discovered what you must not be.
Drag as many as you can down into the apparent perversion of introspection. Have them sit in the navel-gazing mud beside you, surrounded by fog, until they gather the courage and the strength to stand amongst the sludge and stride into the mist ready to welcome whatsoever they may encounter.
Do not be too hard on those in whose nature it is to be beastly. You are likely no more civilised than they.
It is best to not become too attached to those things you feel or think, what you write about them, nor what you write about anything. Each may change or need changing with your own fluid and dynamic circumstances.
I can only do so much to preserve his thoughts, tainted by time and whispers as they are. True meaning becomes muffled through six feet of soil. Yet, witness how much he taught me.