That which cannot be seen or detected, that which hides itself in the purity of Night, in the darkness of revelation, is Life itself. Life is what the essence of the Night has delivered into the light; it is the invisible made visible, the manifestation of the phenomenon of a reality that is not of the world, that holds within the mystery of itself the Truth; the Truth of Being and the Truth of non-reality. What is real, what is tangible and concrete in modality and in time, what is seen and perceived, is not the essence of life, for the essence is invisible to perception and cannot be revealed but only to itself, is that realm in which the remittance of the soul is cast about and made to comply with the altering conceptions of a blindness, a masking of Truth. Thrown into this milieu, knowledge is confronted and tears at the fabric of the Night. It takes knowledge to conscript to the destruction and degradation of the soul. The more knowledge one possesses, the further he is thrown into the world. The physical is the dreariness of a reality that dreams of only itself, since consciousness, in its experience, and by its experience, is concomitant to Being. It is the root of the imagination that has been gifted to man to offer a portal from the anxieties of his psychological abyss, his inescapable fall and inevitable demise. To take on the world is to take on death. The death of man is his escape back to himself. The death of the world is his downfall and his promise.
At the center of a circle is the point at which it immediately presents the space around it. This space, being what it is as the exterior of the center, is denied to the center. It’s impossible for the center to penetrate that space while, paradoxically, the space around it can penetrate the center. It does so simply by being space and, therefore, has only spatiality of it-self, and this self moves at random and on its own accord. It cannot nullify the center, nor can it, at any point, alter its place. The center remains at its central determination regardless of the space that can pass through it. Space can never become the center. It cannot pause or suspend its spatiality, it can only be what it is and that is its own emptiness, its own void in which the author of its movement is always hidden behind a cloak of darkness and mystery. In passing through the center of the circle, space denies that point its privilege of centrality, although, in one form or another, the centrality remains and can never be totally vanquished, only the point of centrality changes. The circle will always move, space will always be ecstatic, but there could never be a circle without a center, or space without a circle to designate its space.
The essence of the soul is a pure unity of creature and God, a complete absence of anything foreign or circumventing. In the desert of its solitude, the soul is always one with itself in that it cannot transcend into anything but itself, nor can it escape its own horizon. It cannot become because it has always been. What it is is what it was. Not a glimmer of division can exist between the soul and God. The soul is God and God is the soul. Its being is Being upon the open range of reality, wherein the soul is properly devoid and the arbiter of the soul is deposited; the absolute, in its passivity and openness of itself depicts the world as that which is its negative realm, its stopping point within the milieu of time and space such that its arrival is nothing more than returning to itself, to its true nature and to its self-appearance. The manifestation of the essence is equally, and bilaterally, the essence of its unnamed mystery and its lack of determination since, in its purity, in its Being, all is indeterminate and nothing of substance. It is unaffected within its embryonic cocoon, but self-affecting in the wilderness of exteriority which presupposes the soul and all that is uncreated within it.
Freedom is free only within self-maintained boundaries. Its foundation is forever intact. It is the transgression beyond its own barriers wherein lies the components of its eventual demise.
The essence is within itself. It is its own relation through its revelation to itself. It is pure unity in which there are no foreign elements, no otherness, nothing but itself in its pure absoluteness. There is nothing but reality in the essence, once it reaches itself through revealing itself to itself. Outside of it is only unreality, it is the milieu of exteriority which has no basis for the essence. The essence is its own foundation, its own essence of essence and, in its solitude it rejoices in itself as that which is one with the absolute, a one in which nothing can penetrate, nothing can relate to it, nor misappropriate it. It is only in union with its own union and is unreachable except through itself in its purity and in its absoluteness. The essence is greater than reality because it holds reality in its own terms, in its desires which are immeasurable since in its absoluteness it is its own desire. The content of the essence, besides it being its own content, is its desire to be this very content. There are no lines separating essence from desire, nothing can come close to it nor escape from it. Its proximity to itself is its own boundaries and its own demarcation. Once essence reveals itself in itself, to consciousness which uses essence as its vehicle to embark on life, than it becomes the reality surrounding it, the horizon in which it flourishes as Being, a horizon in which the milieu of infinite worlds form together in a finite embrace which becomes the object for the essence and the means by which its revelation is recognized by the otherness that extends itself throughout the horizon of Being. This horizon belongs to Being, and to the essence of Being, in its truth and in its absolute existence.
Pure essence is absolute tranquility. There is nothing outside of it, nothing opposed to it. It is ‘in itself’ as itself only at rest and, in its oneness, it is impenetrable by anything other than itself. It has no desires other than its own simplicity, its own serene emptiness, which, for it, is the emptiness wherein it rests and remains separate from all else; from the world, from Being-in-the-world which has yet become being, which is still confined to itself ‘in itself as essence.’ There is no reality for essence since no reality exists within it except its pure nature, its simple form wherein it senses nothing except the nothing of its absolute purity. It forms itself and remains invisible, hiding in its intransigent state of disinterest, its unopposed, unseen form where nothing is foreign to it because it remains ‘in itself’. It only emerges in transcendence where there may be interest outside of it, opposition and resistance. The negation in which essence explores itself is that which comes against it as ‘otherness’, and it is only in otherness that the essence transcends into the reality that opposes it, and it could only be this particular reality for the particular essence as its immediate fall into the world has its character and personality, as it is for all essences and all beings.
That which transcends must transcend from something. That something is its essence, its immanence, also its Nothing since its relates to this nothingness in its transcending from and becoming part of its own immanence. The relationship of nothing to becoming something is presupposed in the nothing, hence it is the basis for realism which is not actually real, but in its essence that which becomes reality. Therefore, the structure of reality is actually a becoming of a nothing made possible by its own immanence which is an act of transcending through-itself-beyond-itself, resulting in transcendence being immanence, and the essence of immanence the light that is the transcendence from nothingness.
The Night of Non-Phenomenality is the self-abandonment of the essence to itself, the non-appearing of the appearance, the withdrawal back into nothing…in which revelation is not possible as a transcending, but only possible as not becoming. Now, this non-becoming is still immanent in its non-phenomenal structure, but only immanent to itself in its nothingness. All things have essence, even nothing since the essence of nothing must take the place of the essence of something if that something does not show itself, or if only nothing appears. It is the auto-affection behind reality, that which lingers beyond the phenomenological milieu of exteriority and remains, simply, in the imagination. Saying that what is imagined exists, only does so in the imagination of imagining and, therefore its reality is possible within itself only if that in itself transcends beyond all other possibilities and manifests its essence which, beforehand remained an essence that first manifested through an auto-affectivity and a spontaneous reality forming together so that nothing else can be realized by that one particular instant. Reality defines itself through itself. Its appearing is a disappearing, it is a withdrawing from that which is its essence into an ontic reality; a reality that is no longer in the grips of its ontological content but is, actually, an eidetic vision, namely, the vision of the revelation of the transcendence into the exteriority of the interiority, the movement from within to the beyond of the within, the phenomenal being of Being-in-itself. l
Appearance is transcendence, a coming to be which is both given and received. It manifests itself through itself and designates a horizon of Being. In its falling forward, the Being of the horizon is a revelation of the outermost reaches of transcendence, an impartial indifference to itself which within is found its own manifestation. Appearance, in effect, is appearance to itself of its essence through the possibility of its independence, its Selbstandigkeit. It cannot be presupposed that transcendence is reality, it is, in effect, a possibility of reality. Hence, transcendence is the foundation in which reality becomes real within the horizon of its independent appearance. Consciousness, for its place in this transcendence, borrows from the horizon the reality in which it becomes conscious of its consciousness. And, as consciousness projects out it is actually directing itself in toward itself, toward the foundation in which its essence had come to be; the essence of its manifestation within the horizon of transcendence.
Is it consciousness that possesses man, in that he is understood as no longer the origin of the light of consciousness of a phenomenal being so that, in reality, it is consciousness which has man as its object and thus its subject? Is there only one consciousness in which all beings are subjects of, which, in effect, resides in the intuitive categories whereby all beings react alike to whatever stimulus originates outside of them and penetrates to a point where a reaction is ascertained similarly and emotionally? If true than idealism is nothing more than the gathering and consuming of an interior universal principle of the unknown which is ‘brought about’ through the receptivity of a consciousness which is mistaken for the exterior milieu, but is, in fact, the underlying truth of Being. This truth of Being, therefore, applies to that which is representative of a consciousness that is singularly bound by itself, but with boundaries that sail off into infinity, since this one consciousness is reaffirmed each moment of its existence, and is limited to only those moments that it is conscious of itself, and not to those moments that are beyond itself but still exist ‘behind the scenes’; behind consciousness.