Metaphysical Levels of the 3rd Dimension According to
Aestheticureanism or Asceticureanism

The metaphysical art is the art of changeless variations. Here are
motions within the art:

(A) There are two boulders of equal size. Place an equally-sized
boulder between them.

(B) There is a small boulder and a very large boulder. Place a
medium-sized boulder between them.

(C ) There is a small boulder and a very large boulder. Imagine
an infinite boulder beyond the large boulder.

(D) There is a small boulder and a very large boulder. Find
something small and magical in the sand beyond the smaller
boulder. If you do not find something, do your best to put
something small and magical there in place of the missing object.
If you return later, take the object, or return the object, creating a
cycle of nature.

(E) Swing a cheap object on a string, to advertise the one small
magical object that you do not possess, or the infinite ones that
you do, but which may be invisible.

(F) Make compositions out of precious objects, finding magic in
them. Think if you must.

(G) Try to balance something on a tall pole stuck in the ground. If
you cannot balance the object, then become a tragedian by
worshipping the invisible things on the end of the protruding stick.

(H) Pretend you are a victim to lament the possible loss of
immortality. Stick sticks in the ground and lie on your back
underneath the sticks, like you have been impaled by the
invisible. Construct a spirit to equal the ghosts on the ends of the

(I) Carry a stick to keep in touch with the ghosts in things.
Become animated with the way of the world.

(J) Put a precious magical thing on a string around your neck.
Now you don’t need to play victim. Give it a name, like ‘wishing
stone’ or ‘philosopher’s stone’ or ‘washing-stone’ or ‘stone of

(K) If you don’t like the stone, throw it in the water. When you
feel thoughtful, look for a replacement stone. If you love the
stone, keep it on a shelf. Become a hermit.

(L) Ruminate, so that you remember just how things are.

(M) Practice un-attachment, and learn time-travel.

At this point, if you succeed, you have mastered metaphysics for
three dimensions.

Originally from the forthcoming
Dimensional Metaphysics

On the theme of the special knowledge of ‘Old-People’


A man examines many aspects of life, all of which are fragments.

"This fragment is transparent: that life is not a fragment..."


"Life begins when you carry a music-box..."

"You are on an island, and the island is only what you take with

Sometimes the city is just the music inside you...


At other times, the world echoes within the music,

Contained within your island.

Sometimes music is the filter of something...

Which, if unfiltered, would be crass enough to be meaningless...

Life is the epoch of music, and also civilization...


Sometimes civilization is the only island,

And every other island is an obliteration...

Cities are the language of ablated languages...

Cities are the noun of many transitive verbs...

What is left of the city is astonishing:

It is an amusement without music,

A cadence of something which is without pitch...

The architecture is lost in the silence


Then we move beyond the music machine...

We move beyond the clocks...

That lie beneath the shadows...

We see that every figure that makes an impression...

Is a mime making a performance...

The silence is civilization...

The performance is the part of the figure that makes an

We see a mad man walking around in a miniature ship that is
stricken with lightning...

We see a psychologist, inviting people into the cave of his mind...

We see the archeologist uncovering nothing other than curiosity...

And the politician flanked by a white wall...

Perhaps they are all growing their gardens?

The madman is the economist, a powerful figure.

The psychologist has taken the project literally, with a lot of
added imagination.

The archeologist has the secret, but worships mystery with
childlike wonder.

The politician is the most familiar with the garden, but has
become a filligree goldfish.

Yet the gardens grow without the city.

Decay becomes the language denying the words.


Beyond the figures, which gambol on the heraldric field of

(they are like moving statues, gargoyles...)

a theme of universal ideas appears...

There are now many ships, perhaps carrying junk...

Madmen, medicine, rare herbs, books on subjects as obscure as

Simultaneously, there is the brain:

The dark overlap of many caverns,

Barely extruding with the palpitations of numerous organisms.

Lucid, and yet clouded in shadow, inky, and for the moment,

Langorous with Epicurean sentimentality.

The brain is like the caves of many psychologists.

And, there is, separately, an ideal system, unknown to men,

Which lies like invisible bones in the backshadow of all this

Bones undiscovered by any archeologist, with properties beyond
all poetry...

Neither fervent, nor given to any sort of care...

A consciousness devoid of regret, and finding all challenges futile
to its temperament...

Neither spiritually dull, nor given to conviction...

A shape undiscovered by a single one of life's many sentences

And, there is also a labyrinth where everything is dark, except for
the whitened wall...

Where the politician preaches like a scientist...

And the maze is the darkness of his intellect, and also, the
meanings preserved, for those...

That do not speak the language of lies...

Yet politics is its message...

And it is older than the music found  inside the cities...


There are theories on how the music is written,

Duller than the words that echo from young children,

For example, perhaps music is a momento----

A momento mori for the passage of time----

An oseograph of the tables of circumstance----

An idea of things that no longer hold truth!

Or perhaps the idea is to solve something temporarily---

A tear in a sail or a flag!

A graffiti pointing to an ugly protruding pipe,

Which is also ugly!

But then these figures subside into language...

A static reification... A celestial temple of fraud...

And the language in turn melts into silence...

The silence of civilization---!


Now I can explain what magic means to an old person.

I can explain that hexagrams and other figures from geometry...

Are spare postulates, dirty enough to mean nothing...

Yet containing the fragrence of a magic spell!

The flavor of circumstance is contained in the dark grooves...

Time echoes with mute intimations...

This is why some people go blind...

Why some wise people are mutes...

It is idiotic sophistry---!

The sophistry of passing time---!

Nothing matters like a sign!

And the sign holds without comment the passing of many worlds.

The egress on truth was no more than a decorous moment,

Contained in the shadow of the sign----

Like sand in a blob of glass!

The item of concern is not magic---

Magic is taller than the music of distress---!

In this world, language is the manner of turning

Grass and sticks into shadows that weave divines!

But the stick is ordinary grass, and the shadow

Is probably sand...

The music, if it carries, seems completely mad!

The cadence of civilization is no more than those puristic

Painted over the skin...

Perverse with the magic of time.

And ordinary words seem dull...

Because they are dull...

They are figments of shadows...

Busted like wine.


Then, there is a picture of age...

As something from a map...

One of many distinct shapes...

Each, perhaps crude,

But, lending secrets...

To scrutibiilty.

Each old thing contains a youth...

Each youth becomes wise by age...

Each age is written in youth...

Each dead man is a sage...

Poets learn to wake from death...

And history learns their words...

And people begin to die by death...

Proof becomes a ridiculous gift...

Life becomes a choice...

Heaven is ice to fire, and fire to ice...

Every man has a price...

And stories are what's left of being nice...

But metaphysics thrives...


Beyond this point, sages are men...

And men live immortally...

It is not merely celebration...

But the sacred earth of philosophy...

A creation like a device within the mind...

A machine of temperamental matters...

Caught on the wing of epiphanization---

The luck of gods...

Gelt for the locking statues of representation...

Measures of truth echo...

Without evoking harsh music...

Thought's tendrils form a shape of overlapping patterns...

Nothing is the school of this design...

The naked truth burns harmlessly...

Figures gape with mystery...

Religion toils on the infinity...

Nothing is left of depravity...

Except sacred madness...

The consolation of infinite intelligence...


Then there is a confrontation:

Everybody's central epiphany!

To make matters work----

Like clockwork's God!

The strange rule of correspondence!

Dissipating the soul of circumstance!

Trump arrives late...

On the field of potential systems!

Prodigies basicify.

Commonsense hegemonies all these foresaken.---

The math winces, and out pours genius---!

Many winters pawned on fickle circumstance!

The rule is sober...

And the test is sullen...

Gods radio the silence of the foresaken!

The weather clears a space for lucid minds---

And ugliness begins to trace its sublimes----

The race of winter dulls the sense...

The appetite removes the heart of avarice...

In the wild mildness, knowledge-flowers grow---

Radiating the mild gladness of unfallen snows...

Deserts economize the truths of expectation...

Afterwards, the summer itself becomes a tale of spring!


Fallen from the buttonhole of some conclave,

Coincidences play their game...

The same things that were once deemed ordinary,

Demand articulate proof and fine-tuned reasoning...

Everything is elevated upon solid rock...

Winding like a self-winding clockwork...

Full of spark!

The suddenness of evening is not the same strange roar...

No more are the highway bandits or the winding bores...

Everything is immaculate,

Like stilt-walkers, or vignettes of fantastic birds...

Calligraphy in the snow...

The rules rouse feeling now...

The shape of everything has theoretical bearing...

As if the world was made of artist's palettes...

And buildings were dabbling in some kind of profound

It seems that everyone is winning...

Everyone can become a god...

Everyone can make a shape in the sod...

Everyone is made of sticks...

Everyone is worth some bricks...

What is vacant now?


God is hiding an instrumental madness!

The life of the show!

Illusion takes everyone in tow!

The beginning is lost!

Providence destains the child!

Wisdom grows wild!

The worst things fade from view!

Gone are the shadows cutting through the snow!

Gone are the images of painful moments!

The sacrifice of sex!

The letters of the law!

The elements of indifference!

The pattern of un-reasonableness!

God has lifted up the chains!

And put everyone in Celestial Heaven!

Life still falls below...

Like a valley in a mountain!

Images fall like snow.

Now metaphysics has been cast in doubt,

And words that were hated are now devout...

The pattern is nature...

But rules are out...

On the theme of ‘Middle-Ages’

[A] "The subtle art is indistinguishable from magic..."

[B] The self contains its own essence, and knows less well the
essences that lie beyond the self...

[C] Even so, the self is exceptional, and a measurement of things
not contained within the self.

[D] What we notice in a dark room is substantially different from
the same objects in a light room.

[E] Subtle laws can prove anything, however difficultly, with
whatever exceptionality...

[F] These things exist in what Douglas Adams called 'the long
dark teatime of the soul'...

[G] With proper nourishment (biscuits, sugared tea), life is
indistinguishable from magic, to the sophisticate... His needs are
provided for, and so, there is less reliance on reality...

[H] The magic of a sacred grove is revealed with mystery.

[I] Unfragmented steps lead beyond, into the universal...

[J] The magic of the universal may as well be ordinary.

[K] The first art of magic becomes the pursuit of the immortal...

[L] Life's intransitives fade into vignettes, cartoons, barely

[M] The best systems are left with a touch of everything, a
miscellay, a roster, an establishment.

On the theme of ‘Time’s Tables’

[A] "The subtle art is indistinguishable from permutation."

[B] "Time is all of change."

[C] "The river lies beyond the sea."

[D] "Nature blooms amidst intuitions."

[E] "The sacred sound floats above the ground."

[F] "Patterns are unwoven in the laws of interpretation."

[G] "Figures are myths of memory."

[H] "Time fragments on its ends."

[I] History is the ideation of all capacities, present at all levels.

[J] It all depends on formulating an exceptional rule.

[K] Nature changes.

[L] Fools die, leaving genius eggs.

[M] Sometimes perspective merits a different system.


Initial Insight:

A. Relating with broken rocks has been interpreted as relating
with truth. The chips in the rock represent something critical,
puzzling, both compromising and uncompromising. We struggle to
comprehend how we reached the rocks, and what the rocks
continue to signifiy, even while some of the rocks have worn
away. We feel like a piece of history, the archaic ages that came
before, and we struggle to compare ourselves with the process of
erosion. We can even lift some of the rocks with our hand,
acquiring an idea of subtle, almost magical influence on history.

B. When the rocks are interpreted as needing transcendence, this
leads to something else. We gain a singular impression of the
rocks, and this impels us to feel as if there is something we need
to do or achieve to gain standing next to something so solid and
enduring. Like statues of presidents, and chiseled letters. If we
do not do something,  we do not become great, and then we just
have to tolerate the world as it is. If we could be great, we could
change something. But really, emotionally, we are just trying to
recreate the stones, or be responsible for the greatness of the
stones, like we are in a Zen garden.

C. The thing it often leads to is a particular space, which
represents the achievement of transcendence. We are magically
transported (ideally, at least), to a place where we have fully
encompassed the meaning of the stones. This can be seen as an
virtual reality interface insight (e.g. that is where we really go,
and why would we if it were not artificial, and interpreting stones
is kind of a simple-minded emotion anyway, like a default option
on some kind of trainer program), but it is also, in the Information
Age, an insight about transcendent physical functions. This
transcendent function exists even if it goes unrealized. Something
remains significant about the stones and the place one would go
to, perhaps as a result of the quotations written in the stones,
regardless of whether one actually goes there. And, if one doesn’t
go there, one is likely to feel punished that one didn’t become so
significant. This obviously originates in some ritualistic thinking
that dates back to pre-modern times.

D. In general, all of this takes place within the mind, except the
stones and the attitude of the body. In other words, we are free to
believe that this is a materialist perspective, even while the
quotations written in the stones (which we may imagine or push
aside against our will) speak of something that is more spiritual
than material.

E. The body may sometimes be different. We may feel
incidentally inspired by our body instead of the stones, or feel
that our body is more important than the stones. Or, we may feel
that the body should have a particular attitude toward the stones,
or toward things in general. We may feel the body is the
convention of our behavior, or we may feel in some way there is
something our body hasn’t learned from the stones. The body
remains the nexus of mystery even while it provides no clear
solutions to the puzzle of the stones.

F. Sometimes it does not lead to a space, but a better idea (for
example, metabolism, or thoughts outside the brain). Even while
we are climbing on the stones, and feeling transcendence, it may
be that it does not lead us to a place, but instead some discrete
insight or ‘tweak’ of our attitude that feels slightly different, but
which we consider to be (in a different way) significant or
insignificant, as if we are not responding to the same convention
about the stones, or as if we are not having the same type of
transcendent experience. In this case, we are not rewarded with
space, but in some form of heroism, or perhaps immortality, or
some special ability.

G. Sometimes transcendence is not the thing that leads there.
Instead, it is something else that seems significant. For example,
an obsessive function, or a logical symbol. Sometimes there is a
different concatenation of processes, so that the particular
moment with the stones was part of a larger significant process in
a kind of pre-packaged way. Perhaps we had particular agendas
with the stones that defined how we perceived the stones, or
perhaps the stones expressed something very blunt or informal.
The stones might be glossed over as a part of our lives, ‘owned’
in some way, or representing the intentions of some other person,
hopefully influencing us in the right way. The function of the
stones becomes not a transcendent experience, but something
mundane, natural, or pre-anticipated. Sometimes, however, these
‘natural’ experiences may be even more significant than
transcendence. The stones might inspire us to write our own
quotations about logic, rock-climbing, or transcendence, and the
transcendence may never come.

H. Sometimes broken rocks are not the inspiration. There may be
a different basis for truth, with a different entire course of action.
Very often we find ourselves in circumstances where we are not
confronted by stones, but instead by crashing water, crowds of
people, books about history, politics, or philosophy, or a blaring
radio that seems to have its own opinion. In all of these scenarios,
there would be a different modality, with different successions of
implications. The result would sometimes never be
transcendence, never be the influence of quotations, or the
inspiration to make our own. We would never feel like we were
rock-climbing, and it would never be about our body against a wall
of stones.

But, let us say the stones aren’t broken.

A. One is up against a gigantic boulder.

B. One simply wishes to put something small against it, and to
feel the weight of that difference in significance.

C. But it is clear, however, that more than one thing would mean
more than just one thing. A process of education.

D. Now, what would it mean to have something great? What is the
greatness that led to something so great? It is like a work of
philosophy! And there may be great things that still are not so
great, and it may even be that ultimately the enormous stone is
less significant! One couldn’t really argue this originally, but one
feels one is somehow trapped under the stone, and the greatest
thing is to try to lift it, even with a ghostly idea like philosophy!

E. Now, one could lack a philosophy.

F. One thing could be insignificant even if it is right next to
another thing.

G. A small thing could be significant even without the large stone.
Without philosophy, without greatness. Something beautiful and
simple. Maybe a small rosy stone, or a silver coin. Something
that seems to make the large stone glimmer with envy. But it was
clear that the large stone was great. The two things must be
completely different things. The large stone is not beautiful, or
not really. If one just made everything beautiful, maybe there
would be no dialectic-of-the-stone. Maybe everything would be
intermediate, and there would be no question of value. Everything
would be golden, everything would be intellectual. Maybe
aesthetics is the ultimate idea.

H. But now that the enormous stone is not in your vision, you feel
it was impressive after all. The rosy stone grows pale by
comparison. The rosy stone doesn’t have a religion. The rosy
stone did not set out on a journey. The rosy stone is no more than
a toy. The whole point of the rosy stone is to throw it at the large
stone, and see, that, while something happened, it was
insignificant in comparison to the game of life. The game of life is
represented by the big stone. The little stone is the passing
fantasy of everyday life. When they meet, they seem equal, but
the small stone falls away.

Everything has been variables.

A. The variables are metaphysical. They are like moments in life.
They are like thoughts we hold dear. We must determine that
what we want is a form of function: a function of desire, and the
logic of desire is the logic of our experience. It is then for us to
determine the transcendent logic of life’s many stones and
quotations as if each one were itself a transcendent place
realizing our fulfillment function. By adopting the semantics of
inherent fulfillment, we acquire access to the metaphysics of the
ordinary. We gain the functional logic of desire.

B. This logic may not be something we can rationalize. Because it
involves all forms of rationality and irrationality. If our life is
imperfect in any way, we bear the consequences. We have two
choices: we can become ‘burrowers’ who continually seek
simplicity and nothing else, or we can involve ourselves in the
complex function of meaningful existence.

C. The meaning of life is a transcendent dimension. It is the
fulfillment function of the ultimate value of each and every thing.
It is by realizing desire that there is fulfillment. There is meaning
in desire that destroys the hunger of desire. The great mystics
always feed on the hunger of their disciples. Likewise, the
dimensional phenomenologist can feed on the desires latent in
mere objects. The realization of meaning is the culturing of the
ideas within the objects of experience----the unfulfilled potentials
which describe the conservation of one’s own capacity for

D. If life has been realized in all its true and false capacities. If it’
s false doors have been questioned, and evil has been questioned,
still there remains a special reliance on key ideas. It may be
important to keep a kind of schedule or bulletin which preserves
one’s core ideas from the ravages of assumptions and passing
time. Key ideas provide structure, and can create tolerance for
what remains unknown or undesirable. One of these ideas is the
concept that art is metaphysics. That ideas are a process. That
there is no inherent idea of nature. That reason lies beyond
madness, which lies beyond reason. The wild ideas can keep life
sacred even if we are denied our passport to the ideal sanctuary.

E. On the other hand, the most exceptional thing may be our
emotions. There is no gauging how significant an emotion may be
before we begin to feel it. Perhaps emotions are a fulfillment
which is difficult to repay. We should be thankful for our
emotions, and consider experience as though we are responsible,
since in another moment the same emotions might go away.

F. One should also seek what might be called ‘greater assurance’
from life’s meaningful experiences. Not just emotions, ideas,
bulletins, or inspirations, but actual systems of knowledge. These
are likely to be the things that provide a real foundation for a
fully meaningful existence. Even if they are emotional, or mere
ideas, or bulletins, or organizations of ideas, they are still beyond
those things when they are systems.

G. Ideal existence is sometimes deceptively simple. It can be the
most desirable thing, and still simple and irreducible. It can be
emotional, and not understandable. It is not always
understandable how life has rationality, or what irrationality could
mean. We must not seek to grasp simplicity as much as seek
perforce the continued existence (however difficult and bitter)
which creates our concept of who we are. Meaning can be
transcendental and simple if we know how to be ourselves.

H. Sometimes we must also determine something else,
unfortunately: something that is not a function or metaphysics,
but instead a powerful, non-spiritual thing: a kind of
incomprehensible somewhat evil thing. An underlying idea beyond
all phenomenology. And this thing is a physical nature, or an
enduring problem. Something natural and unavoidable. It
incorporates the mistake we made with the stones. To think it had
language. To think it was even stones as we could understand
them. And in these moments we play catch-up with reality, and
gain values that we did not previously comprehend.

Modular Variation of the Metaphysical Art

Step 1: Take a suspiciously important category.

Step 2: Turn the category into a timeless receptacle.

Step 3: Determine what part of life has emerged from the
receptacle. For example, so far life has been good because good
has been the most important thing.

Step 4: Engage in behavior suited to the conditions that did and
did not emerge from the receptacle. For example, praise the fact
that life is good. Blame life for indicating that it might turn bad.

Step 5: Make the result into your philosophy. Hey, I'm a
positivist, because life is good.

Step 6: Treat other philosophies as purely theoretical, unless the
facts change, or unless you have reasons to question your belief.