The “this” I point to, or the “here” where I stand, will always be this or here whether I am pointing at a stone (a this) or standing in the street (the here). Universally, I can’t escape either. I can only embrace the “everything” and the “everywhere” of my immediacy and only distinguish what is different through mediation; a mediation which cannot be held back nor deprived of itself whether I walk to a different place or rest my gaze on another object. I’m trapped by mediation, which is the product, the link, to immediacy. It’s the chain that holds immediacy in its place and deprives being of knowing its own being, its essence. It imprisons consciousness within a “self” thrown into a world of “this,” “that” and “there.” I cannot gaze into the horizon and not notice every aspect of it; every tree, every ray of sunlight, every bird that soars overhead. I could close my eyes and imagine something, or somewhere, altogether different, but still be exposed to the universality that I’m trapped in; still swayed by a self poisoned by the world into thinking of itself as being-in-the-world, in which all that matters is the unravelling of a determinate history clinging to its own events composed of changes in appearances.
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