Modernism, Degeneration and Beauty

Modernity has adjusted our appreciation and discernment of what is rewarding and at bottom, heavenly by nature. Beauty turned rather equivocal, even paradoxical. It has come to spell out whatever partiality decides – to whatever heartens our sorrows and upholds our flaws. Easy joys, such as relishing palatable foods, revelling in brotherhood or sporting quality garments are not so appreciable today, as they have been discounted by vapidity. Not only do we lack refined taste, but also a sensitivity to all things purely ravishing. We try to rectify beauty, to redress it as we desire, as if it was out of fashion or implicitly exhausted. By our haughty progressivism, we have been so bold as to reconstruct what is objectively accomplished and ageless. To be sure, our snobbishness has proved brash in tearing down the graces of natural law.

These supposedly ‘ambitious’ and ‘progressive’ reformists, high-handed and insensible of heritage and faith, have turned what was hitherto wanting and limited into a nauseating and obnoxious shit-hole. Certainly, by a culture’s uncalculated fondness for deception and invention, we have hatched up beauty by making it grotesque and reprehensible, far from heavenly – beauty as perceived today is deprived of divinity; it is cut off from the higher nature that effects order. We don’t tend to beauty, we tend to manufacture, to dovetail it with our innermost pandemonium; a penetrating spitefulness that is hurled back to the surface. A great deal of people who play a part in this monumental uncertainty and mayhem don’t earnestly know their belief. Their unjustified uprising and subversion is simply an illustration of their inadequacy and affliction. Nevertheless, they are obstinate and ill-disposed, not merely loathing the high-minded who desire to safeguard their lawfulness, but deliberately marching and objecting their misery under the curtain of impartiality and egalitarianism, as if such license will reinstate inward peace to their ungovernable turmoil.

If truth be told, these wretched souls yearn to protect their dreary and confounded remains, fostering an erroneously empty individualism – freakish and intemperate. Not including, the impassioned emotions and strength of their blind antagonism and victimhood. Inconsiderate and egotistic in the worst thinkable fashion; their renunciation of truth, their striking evasion of responsibility, and their headstrong pursuit of shifting guilt to that hideous, monstrous, tyrannical patriarchy. Realise: it is not the patriarchy that lies at the root of their far-reaching disfigurement and harm but their disgruntlement and tartness toward their lesser father; his poverty in power and authority, his negligence and irresponsibility. Is it not contemptible for a woman to abominate what she doesn’t apprehend? She deems herself oppressed and she supposedly believes who merits the blame for her injustice, but is she perfectly capable of such differentiation? Such a woman is captured and seduced by an expansive emotional upheaval and she is incompetent in making sense of it. She wouldn’t be so enraged, so preposterous, so ostentatious in her protests if she were reasonably sensible in her judgement.

They are protesting for a piece of fiction, that’s their great competence; forging irresistible fallacies and making them appear full of common sense, persuasive enough for the mob to be convinced. Of course they give it credence, how can they not? contemporary women are exalted, elevated on a pedestal for precisely everything and nothing – for obscenity, contrived glamour, showiness and hubris. And of those desperate men, poverty-stricken by disposition, ennoble not merely the feminine and gracious, but women of all temperaments by merit of being females – let us remember that such conduct inflicts more damage than benefit, and is an impotent projection of unhealthy programming, wretchedness and dishonesty. Any man in his right mind will readily revolt against such an abominable departure from beauty, goodness and truth.

The acknowledgement of beauty, as I perceive it, is not some kind of fancy of moral decay. I have, to the best of my ability, relinquished my time and endured the truth to purify my palate and dispose of the dirty oddments that pollute have polluted my judgement and stained the lenses from which I grasp. [This seems to me indispensable to bring yourself in truth’s proximity.] I don’t find it appealing to mingle with people whose itches and relishes wrangle with mine, thereby coercing me to purposely employ false sincerities and jests to keep the peace, steering clear of upsetting their petty feelings. What I find most irreplaceable is not mistaken by nature nor displeasing in its simplicity. I derive intense joy from humility and kinship, but I can’t rejoice in it among those who cause needless harm and breed perpetual madness. There is elated enjoyment in a sincere and avid exchange with a pleasant woman by the sea shore, a woman who knows something of modesty and submissiveness, but I can’t frame such an image with one who eats away at my underpinnings by her feral temperament, endeavouring to briskly pick on my strengths to supposedly put my service to good use. Further, I have a frank fondness for everything that ties man to his essence, likewise to everything that ties woman to her loving-kindness; warm, affectionate, yielding and rightfully deprived of the superfluities of degeneracy and at that, anything densely arrogant and overbearing.

Common pleasures should not be discounted nor ignored, they are priceless endowments that are too costly to overlook; an indelible sunset, a soothing walk down the riverbank, a fine book by the ocean, a glass of wine late at night opposing an untold countryside – get lost in an exquisite twilight or a deep heart-to-heart conversation. Such pleasures are enriching, but we ought to be totally engaged and alive when we’re having them, as if our departure from life shortly follows. Modern culture lacks taste, uncultured by mucky watered-down acidities. Anyone with a sense of taste distinguishes an expansive blandness and aversion toward the improper and nauseous displays of dissolution, misery, disunion and dishonesty of the contemporary man and woman, who have given themselves up so imprudently and irresponsibly to their rapid degeneration. Defiance is not a possibility, but a pivotal necessity in the man who desires to care for his ethical choices among the ruins of modernity. Does the principled man have any alternative except to transgress the wayward, the poisonous, the simulated, the impotent, the egoistic, the illiterate? If he is of towering moral quality, wouldn’t he by merit of his integrity turn down anything that pressures him into uncleanliness and immorality? It seems evident that all reasonable men can distinguish, in relation to their moral code, the irreproachable from the unethical.

No dignified man readily splits his morals in two by way of outward convention. The distinguished are not shape-shifters, in that they are not tolerant of flawed cultural conventions. They are inwardly obedient, tending to inward authority and conforming to its principle, above everything. Their righteousness is not a projection from the surface, but an outpouring of innermost unification. The cultured man is disagreeable by virtue of strength and agreeable in accordance to his principle. His conception of beauty is not lavishly tainted by bigoted and emotional baggage, but by an objective standpoint that sprung from an onerous, revealing expedition of self-discovery and transcendence. Experience lays bare the truth to those who endeavour to find it, but multiplies the bewilderment and confusion in those who refute it in the spirit of self-abandonment.