Aug 5
I hope, regardless of how you got into the Frev or like about it, you realize that it is about fighting systems of injustice and corruption at all levels for a society with liberty, equality, and fraternity.
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I hope, regardless of how you got into the Frev or like about it, you realize that it is about fighting systems of injustice and corruption at all levels for a society with liberty, equality, and fraternity.
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(I have revised this a bit, thinking of what will happen next)
Sitting here upon my bed typing, I once attempted something that might had bordered on defiance: writing until all my thoughts of Saint-Just were purged away. When I finished one piece, another set of incoherent ideas arose and I had to sort and arrange them. Yet, no matter how many words and letters I punched with my fingertips, more phrases and pictures of him came to life until they overtook my brain. What must he be thinking, I mused as I continued to pour out my flashing and strobing pictures of him.
One mental glance at his snow white cravat, starched and gleaming, became a lighthouse glowing and leading me closer to him moderated by the circuits of my laptop or mobile phone. Pulling me nearer past his crust and into his mantle, he must now be hoping that one day I will enter into that very core of his theories and beyond. At this point, my creative fire rages, fueled by the limited knowledge I do possess, and realizes that it can no longer forget him or twist him in my writings. No longer will he persecute or hunt or stalk me until my blood pours out; I will not grant Lamartine or Michelet the satisfaction of rehashing their beliefs and epithets attached to him. I will find my way through to him with this pen, no matter what it takes.
Why do I attempt to forget him? Why do I try to evade someone who cannot harm me? Why must my traumas of the past imbue him with fear and anxiety to the point I believe him as an “Archangel of the Terror” as well, when, in fact, he has no intentions of destroying me as he would, say, “Lord” Schneider. These myths of his as an “(Arch)angel of Death” mingle with my flighty imagination, creating disastrous results where my writings are tainted with either Thermidorian stains or with Michelet’s claw marks. So, I must apologize to Saint-Just for writing him thus in the last 4 years, turning him into an insatiably dangerous white tiger with the intent of harming me. He knows my thoughts, though, and observes that I can and must change; otherwise, he would had already closed his armor and mask and never allow me access to his secrets and truths.
I cannot get that picture of Saint-Just in the tumbril out of my head: that stiffly exalting neck, proudly held even without that protective high cravat from a few hours ago; his steel blue eyes gazing and scanning the crowds coldly and indifferently; that luscious blond hair, still beautiful even after being shorn for the execution; standing tall and erect, unafraid of the punishment to come. His inner strength and body armor of ice and marble refuses to crack, thanks to his prodigious willpower. As much as it would break my heart to see him go to his death in this manner, I would also admire him greatly. The afterlife itself would not contain him...
I have to wondering which of us is willing to sacrifice everything like Robespierre and his friends did, knowing our names would be smeared for years to come...
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Marcus Aurelius quote to live by:
"If someone is able to show me that what I think or do is not right, I will happily change, for I seek the truth, by which no one was ever truly harmed. It is the person who continues in his self-deception and ignorance who is harmed."
If I were to create a sect in Hellenic Polytheism, then stoicism would be part of it.
When marching to Versailles, do not be afraid of a little rain.
I wish I could pierce Saint-Just's perfect armor for once so I can see into his true form.