The Train

The Train

His crusted laces snapped against the icy pavement as he stepped out onto the platform. It was past dusk, and the moon hung low in the deep black sky. The air was sharp and cold. The snow fell softly. The lone man next to him, wearing a square hat and a long dark coat of black, said the train would be here shortly. “You must be patient,” he said, staring off into the night, “the train will be here soon. You will see it faint in the distance, and it will look at first like a candle burning. That’s when you will know it is there.” His old voice was gentle, and indicated a sincere understanding. He felt that he could trust the man, and so he listened with childlike ears. “It will soothe you when you see it, and assure you of its certain presence. It will doubtless be a tremendous relief. But the longer you wait, the colder you’ll get, and you will begin to question if it will ever actually come. You will stand chilled and shaken by this incessantly bitter wind, and feel as if your time is wasted. I urge you now, you must endure—through all the cold bestows upon you. You must allow yourself to be warmed by the mere promise of its coming, and always keep Faith in its certain arrival. For as long as you do, it will grow brighter, and rival the moon in its sizeable glory. It will appear, you’ll see, as two eyes seeking—and then you will know it is coming for sure.” All the while he spoke, his eyes remained fixed, as if he could actually see the train without any tangible evidence of its reality. His careful, calculated diction suggested some kind of special insight into the matter, and kept his sole listener intrigued. “It may overwhelm you though, and it may confuse you, and it may even consume you in its screeching rapture. It will certainly shake the very ground that you stand on. But then you will hear as its bells come chiming, and know it’s arrived then to take you away.”

A few dense moments passed. The hostile, biting wind grew harsher, and the ever-thickening squall of snow piled up on their motionless shoulders. He just stood there, silently, staring out into the distance, thinking intently about what the man had just told him. Only the constant moon above filled the black void of the starless sky. There was something in the tone of the man’s voice that made his words so compelling. They instilled in him this sense of unyielding Hope. He felt that he could believe in what this stranger had professed. Perhaps it was that he reminded him so much of his father—a prudent old man—and he could cling to that like some kind of crutch. He could not think of any reason why he should doubt his sincerity, for was he not standing in waiting as well, subject the same to the cold tyranny of winter? And yet, as he stood there, the train would not come. His lips soon cracked, and his cheeks turned a ghostly white. With every breath he took, a phantom of vapour danced ominously before him. His vision became clouded, and his knees began to ache. The oppressive cold quickly became insufferable. I must endure, he thought to himself. I must find warmth in the promise of its coming. I must keep faith in its certain arrival. But still, it did not come. It had yet to even appear as a glint on the horizon.

Then suddenly, clutching at his chest, the old man took a feeble step forward. The sound of his boot crunching the ice beneath alarmed his lone acquaintance. He reached out so as to support the old man, but was met with a stubborn wave of the arm. “I’m okay,” he said, after a brief but ill coughing fit. “I’m okay. Just a tickle in the throat. It’s a chilly night out. I’m okay.” He stepped back so as to give his compatriot some space. This was the first indication of any weakness in the man’s solid demeanour. It came as a strangely unforeseen shock to him. He, almost against his own will, had placed so much credence in what the man had proclaimed, it was unfathomable to think that his sage-like words could perhaps be no more than conjecture. But they suddenly began to lose their prophetic value. How long has this old man been standing out here? He thought at last. There was no way any fool could be driven to such insanity unless he knew for sure what the final reward was. But how could he? It was a question he had yet to ponder, for the entire time he was so completely entranced by the man’s ardent resolve. How did he know that the train would be coming with such confidence? He must have seen it before, surely. But he was too afraid to ask him. There had to have been some kind of substantial reason why the man had been waiting here so long. There had to have been some merit in what the man had so zealously claimed. Otherwise, what? What was the reason for his being here? What is the reason for my being here? The thought that no train would come to provide them with shelter from this ever-worsening, ever-permeating cold was preposterous. It was absolutely Absurd. He could not accept the prospect. He just couldn’t—the consequences were too profound. And so he stood there, conflicted—shaken but faithful, uncertain but hopeful—knowing then that that was his only choice. There was no other way. He had to find warmth in the promise of its coming. He had to keep faith in its certain arrival. Or else… Or else there was nothing.

The old man broke out into another brief but violent coughing fit. He cleared his throat, then rubbed his tired eyes. His long grey beard—varnished now with a grim layer of frost—swayed ever so gently with the permanent wind. “You must be patient,” he said, staring dimly down upon the tracks, “the train will be here soon.”

– RA

Thought #31 (On Mind)

    Dreams are nocturnal neuroses; neuroses are just your humanity’s way of reminding you that it exists. – RA

Thought #29 (On Beauty)

     The Greeks weren’t wrong when they decided that outward beauty is a reflection of internal nobility. Good looks are a product of healthy genetics, and usually come hand-in-hand with a healthy immune system and a healthy intellect; traits which put a person at an advantage in nature. This is why we find certain features more attractive than others when seeking out a mate; because they signify to us that the person possesses good genes, comes from a genetically healthy background, and is thus a desirable sexual partner to produce good, healthy offspring with. Defective features imply defective genes – for whatever reason that may be. This innate bias is not only limited to potential sexual prospects though; we tend to be drawn to good-looking people in general, regardless of sex, because we subconsciously fall under the impression that they are at a naturalistic advantage to others, and possess special means to resources that less attractive people do not. It’s all social psychology, it’s all very real, and it’s proven to be very important over the course of our history. Don’t judge a book by its cover, but do judge, because you can determine a lot about a person simply by how they look. – RA

To Dream

Because I sing within my dreams

I know that I am a poet

Because I sail within my dreams

I know that I am a pilot

Because I sin within my dreams

I know that I am a lover

Because we kiss within my dreams

I know that I can’t have you

-RA

Thought #26 (On Mind)

     Neurosis is the most admirable response to the truths of life, and anyone that doesn’t experience it at least occasionally has either deluded his or herself into believing that life is something that it’s not, has glossed over the naked realities of it, or simply lacks the ability to capacitate it. Neurosis, in many cases, is just our naive brain’s natural response to pure, unfiltered understanding. We are not wired to comprehend and accept knowledge outside of what’s required for survival; and those great, weird, brilliant, stupid minds that do usually end up going crazy. Evolution simply has not been able to keep up with the blossoming of our astonishingly analytical brain, and so has not yet been able to provide us with some kind of coping mechanism to counterbalance the overwhelming influx of ‘non-practical’ information that it receives daily. That’s okay though, because the noblest of us – the smartest, wittiest, most innovative and creative – usually appear a little loopy to those who don’t understand. – RA

An Unintentional Essay on Knowledge and Knowing

     Why is the human craving for knowledge so insatiable? Is it because we really desire to know things for our own personal interest and intellectual fulfillment? No, we seek knowledge so that we can impose the fact that we ‘know’ onto the rest of the populous, and thus receive recognition and reassurance for it. No matter how hard we attempt to suppress our instincts, and treat our intellects modestly, we are all – unless miss-wired – narcissistic know-it-alls by nature; whether it’s to our benefit or detriment all depends on context. You may not feel that that is the reason why you love reading books and watching documentaries so much, but at the most fundamental biological level, it is.

     Our unique human need to know everything that we possibly can about anything stems from our primitive need to know everything that we could about the environment that we once lived in: the food sources, dangers, escape routes, etc. This knowledge was once critical to our survival as a species, and so those who possessed it – those who craved it, and went out of their way to acquire it – were viewed as valuable members of the community, and thus received much praise and power for it. They became our dominant pack leaders, and were granted initiative over food and reproductive rights. It is innately wired into our brains to question reality, explore it, and learn things from it, and then project what we believe to have learned upon the people around us; and that has translated very evidently into the way we act within our society today. It’s the reason we have philosophy, and thus science, which has lead to our greatest architectural, technological and medical achievements. It’s also the reason we have art: just watch the way a child – or genius painter for that matter – so fervently explores the canvas: “What would happen if I added a little red over here?” What kind of immensely fulfilling feeling can you imagine Pablo Picasso as having had when seeing the reactions from people to his latest contribution to the world of art? The same feeling primitive man had when he presented the tribe with a fresh kill.

     When you want to learn, it is because you want to proclaim to others what you have learned, and subconsciously (and sometimes not so much) receive applause for the knowledge that you have to offer; a feeling that you have contributed something to the community. This is why philosophy has historically – contrary to the essence of the term – been so dogmatic. It is because those great philosophers who have been credited with innovating the field of thought – whether justifiably or not – have tended to impose their philosophical views upon the masses, with the expectation of receiving recognition or appreciation for it: think enormous sects like Platonism. (Try agreeing with an ego on an intellectual opinion, but claiming that you came to it independently to him: either you don’t understand him, or he’s changed his mind: It’s his knowledge, not yours – so keep away.) But because we’ve advanced so far as a civilization as not to need to worry so much on the individual level about immediate environmental dangers, this urge we have to acquire and spread information can run amok in many different ways, resulting in, as just mentioned, philosophical cults; or more dangerously, religious or political indoctrination.

     The most narcissistic intellects tend to be philosophers, preachers and politicians, because they don’t attempt to override their animalistic urge to impose their subjective ‘knowledge’ upon others. Narcissists have always been necessary leaders over the course of our history (the dominant pack leaders I mentioned earlier) because of this very reason. But because it’s so easy for dangerous doctrines and misinformation to spread in our society today, these intelligent narcissists and the influence they possess can become very cancerous. Where we have an innate urge to learn and transmit knowledge, we also, as would be expected, have sheeplike tendencies to centre our lives around those who we believe to possess knowledge and resources that we view as important (particularly the more common amongst us), and so we often allow ourselves to be beguiled by false facts and axioms: some of the more concerning of modern times being religion, the ant-vaccination and anti-GMO cults, as well as hyperbolic nationalism in some select countries.

     At the end of the day though, this self-centred, aggrandizing trait of desperate knowledge seeking for the purpose of recognition from society is the reason we are where we are as a civilization; the reason we’re in a position where we’re able to seek out knowledge that doesn’t have any immediate impact on our survival as a species: knowing for the sake of knowing. Everything that you see around you – every school, hospital, car and gadget – is a product of this avid craving and dissemination of knowledge. It’s the reason we’re able to indulge in our childlike creativity, and produce beautiful masterpieces of art, literature and music. And for that reason alone, we need to continue seeking knew knowledge through our insatiable, primitive drive for it, and preaching what we claim to have learned  for all to hear – but with the openness and humility of accepting and appreciating the expected objection and criticism that we’re all bound to face.

-RA

Thought #21 (On Society and Human Nature)

     The highest form of intelligence is instinct, because through instinct man can acquire all that is desirable and of necessity in life – and obviously that’s the reason it’s wired into us. But our modern, all-encompassing, ever whimsical society – through the deception of democracy; a concept created by those who fear nature and instinct – has evidently stunted our indulgence in it, and in so has drastically reduced our individual freedoms and prospects in life. This pleases the average man though – it relieves him – because through the strangulation of our basic, primal will, he believes he cannot be dominated by those bigger than him, and so lives his life under the delusion of freedom and liberty. Yet still, there are those who are very aware of the structure of this fear-based, self-imprisoning state, but possess the intellect and drive to infiltrate it, adapt their instincts accordingly, and covertly rule over those who have created it; reassuring them that they are of priority, and that they make the decisions: we call them psychopaths. 

Thought #18 (On Human Nature)

     Reason is just an elaborately concocted instrument used by the mind as a means through which to covertly indulge in its most primal urges under the binding constraints of our modern society. Feast and fuck and tyrannize as you will, but please be polite about it. – RA