‘You want to live ‘according to nature’? O you noble Stoics, what fraudulent words!’ -Nietzsche
Indeed. What fraudulent words.
Yesterday I bashed a chipmunk to death with a rock. I couldn’t stand the screams any longer. Anger, frustration, irritation…sadness, reluctance, gratitude… all felt at once, in the same moment, and then some!
The cat. Only being a cat, right? The essential cat-ness. Torture…nearly three hours of it. Never mind the canned food, the indoor sleeping quarters, showing up here already used to people. That’s the ‘way cat’s are.’
I shouldn’t interfere. That cat is acting according to ‘instinct.’ The cat is a natural hunter. Cats = predator; chipmunks = prey. Simple math. Death as prolonged agony to the prey, and to your ears? Externalities of mere sentiment.
Nature. Natural. Evolution. God’s plan. The Way It Is. No contour. No context.
My feelings? Irrelevant. Unnatural. Domesticated. Weak…depending on one’s perspective, of course. Many flavors for you, the moralist, the miserablist, the socially acceptable. For me: the bad, sick, the discontent. My feelings equate to a problem to be fixed, resolved, healed: a rationalist’s tikkun olam.
Yes. My feelings run through me. They ‘are’ me. I can be no other, and hold no desire to be any other. Not ‘Man.’ Not Rational. Not Natural. ‘I’ do not ‘feel’ any more than ‘lightning flashes.’ There is no ‘lightning’ separable from a ‘flash!’ There is no ‘I’ separable from ‘sentio!’
Enough of your moral optical illusions! I’m no woman in a box to be sawed in two for your magic show.
Your code: nothing but a threat of annihilating–me! An attempt to render me ‘natural’ is to equate me with every-thing, object, and if any-thing, a moral object, a thing to be realigned according to the magnetic north of your pitiful ‘moral compass.’
‘Nature’ is ‘all things equal.’
I saw that there was no Nature,
That Nature does not exist,
That there are mountains, valleys, plains,
That there are trees, flowers, grasses,
That there are streams and stones,
But that there’s not a whole to which this belongs,
That a real and true ensemble
Is a disease of our ideas.
Nature is parts without a whole.
This is perhaps that mystery they speak of.
-Fernando Pessoa, The Poems of Alberto Caeiro
Nature: a concept invented and used by dis-eased men. Men with and who desire power over other men to justify their lives. To justify their power via an appeal to morality, and to fix a blame, a ’cause’ for a problem; the ‘problem’ nothing more than a threat to that power. ‘Nature’ second only to God as apologia for a ‘culture’ of misery. ‘Nature’: the voice of God’s Law spoken…as you interpret ‘it.’
God and Nature are silent! Neither have ever lived.
Your ‘nature’ is no-thing to me. Your ‘culture’ of misery for me to overcome! Your morality? An ugly dance of avoiding your ownness.
No more ‘cat nature’ and ‘human nature’ and your fuzzy concept…Nature! The world you engender is the world you can and may own. Your ‘property’ is no-thing, but your own qualities!
You? I? Also only parts with no whole. Even all the ‘meat’ is in flux, never to be stepped in twice! ‘You’ and ‘I’ indicate ‘earth pieces’ where this flux finds any and every possibility of joyful gratitude interwoven in uncountable ways seen and unseen.
I will not abide by your morality, your ‘nature,’ your ‘how things are.’ As such: this cat eats, this chipmunk dies, and I hate torture, refuse it. Struggle against it where I’m able.
The kitty ate the chipmunk and my story flows onward not to be stepped in twice…