WHEN the traveller, who had seen many countries and nations and continents, was asked what common attribute he had found everywhere existing among men, he answered,
"They have a tendency to sloth."
Many may think that the fuller truth would have been, "They are all timid." They hide themselves behind "manners" and "opinions."
At bottom every man knows well enough that he is a unique being, only once on this earth; and by no extraordinary chance will such a marvellously picturesque piece of diversity in unity as he is, ever be put together a second time.
He knows this, but hides it like an evil conscience;—and why? From fear of his neighbour, who looks for the latest conventionalities in him, and is wrapped up in them himself.
But what is it that forces the man to fear his neighbour, to think and act with his herd, and not seek his own joy? Shyness perhaps, in a few rare cases, but in the majority it is idleness, the "taking things easily," in a word the "tendency to sloth," of which the traveller spoke.
He was right; men are more slothful than timid, and their greatest fear is of the burdens that an uncompromising honesty and nakedness of speech and action would lay on them.
It is only the artists who hate this lazy wandering in borrowed manners and ill-fitting opinions, and discover the secret of the evil conscience, the truth that each human being is a unique marvel.
They show us, how in every little movement of his muscles the man is an individual self, and further—as an analytical deduction from his individuality—a beautiful and interesting object, a new and incredible phenomenon (as is every work of nature), that can never become tedious.
If the great thinker despise mankind, it is for their laziness; they seem mere indifferent bits of pottery, not worth any commerce or improvement.
The man who will not belong to the general mass, has only to stop "taking himself easily"; to follow his conscience, which cries out to him, "Be thyself! all that thou doest and thinkest and desirest, is not thyself!"
Every youthful soul hears this cry day and night, and quivers to hear it: for she divines the sum of happiness that has been from eternity destined for her, if she think of her true deliverance; and towards this happiness she can in no wise be helped, so long as she lies in the chains of Opinion and of Fear.
And how comfortless and unmeaning may life become without this deliverance! There is no more desolate or Ishmaelitish creature in nature than the man who has broken away from his true genius, and does nothing but peer aimlessly about him.
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Herman Melville, 'Moby Dick, or The Whale',
Chapter 1 - Loomings
Some years ago- never mind how long precisely- having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.
It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off- then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.
This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.
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At first reading, only the word, 'Ishmael', is a common factor, in both author's, works.
The Biblical , Ishmael,[ as has been pointed out by E F Edinger,] is, in fact, an indicator, of the condition of being, an, 'outsider'.
Both authors, are very deep thinking, Philosophers, how they use syntax to describe their respective world views, is perhaps superficially different, but, inherent, is a great need to express, 'Sorrow'.
A cursory background research, shows some remarkable similarities.
At a young age[5 for Nietzsche] both authors, lost their fathers.
Both authors, came from a, predominantly female, family unit, sisters ,aunts etc.
Both authors, had a strict Christian upbringing, Nietzsches' father was an ordained minister.
My hypothesis, is they both had an encounter with, 'Self', as described in Jungian terminology.
I also hypothesise, that they had experience of entheogens, and were probably sexually androgynous.
Realisation of Sorrow, is the fate of any higher consciousness,speculation about the sexuality, of both authors,
has been explored by many others. D. Finkelstein's, analysis, of, 'The Whale', 'Melville's Phallic Jokes', etc etc,can perhaps shed some light on the writings of Melville.
Nietzsche? was he gay?
http://www.nytimes.com/2002/07/06/books/is-there-a-gay-basis-to-nietzsche-s-ideas.html
''Gradually it has become clear to me,'' Nietzsche wrote in 1886, ''what every philosophy so far has been: namely, the personal confession of its author and a kind of involuntary and unconscious memoir.'' In Nietzsche's case, the confession and memoir are out in the open, so much so that his philoso phy has occasionally been dismissed, the way an intimate friend once put it, as ''nothing other than a brilliant exercise in self-presentation and self-revelation.''
So is Nietzsche's philosophy really no more than a coded confession of secret experiences? Hardly, as can readily be seen from another recent book, Rüdiger Safranski's ''Nietzsche: A Philosophical Biography'' (W. W. Norton, $29.95). In fact, Nietzsche's intellectual influence for a century and a quarter has been remarkable because he had so many ideas, at least some of which touched crucial cultural nerves.
Now Mr. Köhler is touching one as well; he is preoccupied with one great ''secret'' that he says dominated Nietzsche's life. That secret is homosexuality, which has always hovered around the margins of Nietzsche's reputation.
The Whale? or more likely, along with Munch, 'The Wail!',
[and gnashing of teeth]
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I think I'm goin' back
To the things
I learned so well
In my youth
I think I'm returning to
Those days
When I was young enough
To know the truth
Now there are no games
To only pass the time
No more colouring books
No Christmas bells to chime
But thinking young
And growing older
Is no sin
And I can play
The game of life to win
I can recall the time
When I wasn't ashamed
To reach out to a friend
And now I think I've got
A lot more than
A skipping rope to lend
Now there's more to do
Than watch my sailboat glide
And everyday can be
My magic carpet ride
And I can play hide and seek with my fears
And live my days instead of counting my years
Let everyone debate the true reality
I'd rather see the world the way it used to be
A little bit of freedom's
All we lack
So catch me if you can
I'm goin' back
[(Gerry Goffin & Carole King)]
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