Valus

Stella Adler, the famous acting coach, wanted more from a pupil, who was determined to play the role of Hamlet. She kept telling him, "Bigger! More! Hamlet is not a guy like you." He said, "Oh, you want larger than life?" She said, "Darling, there is nothing larger than life!" 🎭

"The rarest individuals depend on their age. It is not every one that finds the age he deserves, and even when he finds it he does not always know how to utilize it. Some men have been worthy of a better century, for every species of good does not always triumph. Things have their period; even types of excellence are subject to fashion. The sage has one advantage: he is immortal. If this is not his century many others will be." — Baltasar Gracián youtube.com/watch?v=BaOAjmj1…

The evil we cannot imagine is that which overtakes us.

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It's not misogyny for men (or women) to prefer masculinity AMONG MEN; just as it's not misandry to prefer femininity among women. Some traits or combinations of them are generally preferable, evolutionarily sustainable, and observably attributable to genetically healthy stock; while other traits or trait-combinations are (to most people, most of the time, mostly) off-putting; relatively clear signs of deterioration or disease, which are, perhaps,—and notwithstanding certain, rare anomalies, under peculiar circumstances,—only desirable and attractive to those who are themselves in possession of some corresponding imbalance. That's just a fact of life. At the same time, we're all freaks, by some measure or other, and we all have a little freak in us; some spicy dash of oddity, or a crash of eccentric dissonance,—the introduction of an element which is rooted in disharmony, itself, or else, the presence of which strikes, or invites, a type of discord,—which, yet, may be found, by some mystery of cosmic alchemy, to our pleasant surprise, contributing a charming effect, in the context of a wider character, which strikes (and depends on striking) many other notes. And, of course, even what is called the normal and exceptional expressions (in this case, of masculinity or femininity), point towards an extreme, where the archetype of that sublime ideal, carried to what may have seemed its logical conclusion, must pass into absurdity, and parody; for example, as the overly masculine man, who lacks grace, begins to lose something of what made him handsome, and the overly precious princess, in her flamboyantly exaggerated daintiness, cannot be taken seriously, inasmuch as she can scarcely bear contact with the ordinary world. Fortunately, we're unlikely to be judged or identified by any single trait, be it fair or foul, unless we make that our whole "thing", and refuse to countenance or resource the various compensations offered by our wider fortune; which may prove considerable, and overwhelming to any flaw. It is seldom that one's fate does not afford such opportunities, and many signs along the way, to develop and distinguish oneself as a proper individual; by a unique blend of overlapping merits, both inborn and acquired. Personally, I'd much rather be 6'4" than 5'7", and metabolically adapted to action rather than ease, but, is it something of which I am inordinately conscious? Am I going to waste my life bemoaning, denying, coping, resenting taller and more active men, and rage shaming women for their unequal attraction to shorter, pudgier dudes with more retiring, contemplative temperaments? Shall I decry the women as crypto-patriarchs, upholding white supremacy, punching down and casting stones, if they don't cast their first pussy at the shortest starving artist in their DMs? I can recognize that taller, etc. is objectively better, and go on with my day: I don't form an activist-sized inferiority complex around it, but, rather, distinguish myself in a dozen other ways, and let the cookie crumble as it will, enjoying however many chocolate chips I got. Billions of people got dealt a shittier hand than me—and it's not gaslighting myself, coping, or negating my flaws, to say so. Only I thank God, if I happen to possess, by divine providence, the mind of a practical mystic, which enters so naturally and intuitively into agreement with the way, comes to terms with the full matter of reality, and allows me to find joy without looking too far: In my own patch of earth,—no need have I for blotting out the pantheon of ideal forms, constellated archetypes, and absolutes, which illuminate my space of sky. I can appreciate the hero, crown him with laurel, crudely ape him, aspiring to inhabit his station in some lesser manner or a future life, and unimpressively paint him, in clumsy figures or unsophisticated words; but I cannot corrupt his image as it occupies my higher vision. And, because of this, because I am not so envious nor so shameless as to tear that vision down, nay, nor so foul in my tastes as to relish the prospect of gloating over such a worthy idol, filling my guts up with glee, just to see it masked in mud,—because of this, unsullied space within myself, still capable of reverencing what is noblest and best, some corresponding kernel of that hero cries out, to prove that he still lives in me, and his seed still sprouts; as out, out gleams the sterling sword, raised up aside the golden crown, bejeweled with the eyes of his enemies, plucked from their steaming heads; and, so, too, I show my soul in likeness to his: Incorruptible. We should all endeavor to be happy with our lot in life and, as Nietzsche said, "lend style to your character". Few characteristics are more appealing. The halo of completion, the ceremonial hour of The Closing of The Circle, rests over a soul who has mastered this task. Be content to work with what God/Nature/Fate has provided to you. Make your peace with how it is, and begin from where you are. Be grateful for the best that is in you and get the very best out of it, without making a federal case or a new religion, over the perverse romanticizing of some, self-evidently unflattering, dysgenic trait; or without threatening the public's free speech to call it—as they see it: less than perfect.

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