In my previous post, I gave a rather technical description of some of the basic parts of astrology, but it isn’t quite what I wanted to write. I often feel that I cannot write what I want to, not because I am unable to write it, but because in order for anyone to understand it, they must have the background knowledge that I do about the topic.
What I really wanted to write about was the quincunx aspect in astrology, but I assume that most who will read it are not already interested in astrology, much less do they know what the hell a quincunx is. This is one of the most fundamental problems of writing non-fiction, at least for me: For whom am I writing?
Does this question even matter? I will only partially explore whether it matters here. For now, I will follow a line of reasoning that assumes that it does under the premise that the purpose of writing is to provide a valuable idea-based service to people.
I am constantly feeling the need to explain as much background as possible before writing what I want to write, and this requires dry, boring, technical bullshit that no one gives a fuck about. The only people who would be interested in my thoughts on the quincunx are those who either are specialists and already have the background knowledge (and although they could offer valuable insight, I have no inclination to reach out to them because that would mean joining a ghey-ass “community”; I prefer to be alone in my endeavors), or those who have potential to find interest in astrology but have not found it yet and therefore need that background. But, the problem with the latter case is that astrology is a personal journey. It just comes to you, and I cannot force someone to take interest in my technical descriptions if they have not discovered an interest in astrology more broadly on their own, so this further deems my dilemma seemingly useless.
Any time I find a new interest, I dive in deep very quickly. I surpass the basic level knowledge and immediately find myself in the no-man’s land between “somewhat knowledgeable hobbyist” and “nerdy technical professional”. One problem is that I prefer to stay at that level with pretty much everything I am interested in. I want to understand things in a holistic way and connect dots between new interests and the rest of what I know and deem important (often at the expense of the technical details), but I feel an incredible sense of guilt about the idea of marketing myself to make money from my skills and knowledge (not to mention I lack sales skills to begin with; I see that as someone else’s job). I cannot bring myself to care about or overtly pursue money. It seems deeply inauthentic. I end up doing jobs that offer me just enough money to survive and require no creative or intellectual engagement at all because their monotony affords my mind freedom to wander and “plan my escape.” At every job I have ever had, I have had wisdom and foresight that could have brought those businesses to incredible heights, but I have steered clear of correcting what was wrong with them because it “wasn’t my responsibility” to do so, it would involve career advancement that I simply do not desire, and it would involve endless meetings that would go nowhere because of the deaf ears who were in power to implement those changes. I need absolute freedom of thought, creativity, and responsibility, and I am very careful about where I apply my energy. This crippling guilt is about more than personality quirks, however. There is a general moral aspect about it.
I don’t ultimately care about the industries I have worked in (motorsports, film, coffee, etc). I chose them because they would be expendable in favor of more meaningful work down the road. More deeply, I don’t think that they provided value to human well-being, and therefore I felt guilt also about the idea of making those businesses better. Why make a business better if that industry in general does not make the world better? Working in any industry for long enough, I inevitably come to see it as a superficial luxury of life and not worthy of my time or effort at all because I have no place in my value structure for that product. Or, in the case that something I am working on does matter as with a particular film, then the end does not justify the means given the unforgivable social and political corruption that haunts the film production process.
Anyway, I start out doing this simple work for personal reasons, as something to occupy my time while I build toward other things on the side, but I eventually cannot help but to notice the whole that I am contributing to and that it is not for the good, the guilt sets in, and then I have to leave for the next bullshit job.
Writing faces me with the challenge of taking something that I deem to be deeply interesting and important and trying to navigate through communicating it in a way that is not only accessible to the general public but also service-providing. I do believe that good writing is a service because good writing is about ideas, and the idea is the level to which everything ultimately reduces.
Despite all of the good that comes from learning good academic writing — structure, clarity, technical precision, etc. — it has a tendency to reinforce my natural proclivity to “cover everything” that needs to be covered in order for “the point” to be absolutely clear. In academia, I wrote for specialists, but there is a reason that academic writing has no readership. Writing that is truly valuable is more general as well as personal, two things which are typically forbidden in academia, and for good reason. Too much generality and it will seem to lack substance. Too much personality and it will seem to lack applicability to others. And for this reason I will never write fiction… ever — well, not that I have the talent for it anyway.
As things stand, my ideal career scenario would be that someone would simply pay me a steady source of income to write and make silly videos about my thoughts. They’d say “Here’s enough money for you to live. Now go be you and put your ideas out there. I’ll take care of sales and distribution.” I could live wherever and however I want, wake up whenever I want, produce whenever I am inspired, and no one would tell me what to do. And unlike most people who would wither away in this type of open scenario, I am absolutely certain that for me it would be the best context for maximum productivity. That is the dream.
Monetary problems aside, how do I write in order to provide a service? It may be my meal-ticket, but I cannot be sure. Roger Scruton, perhaps not so oddly, was the only professor I have had who recognized and emphasized my personal need to “write now and organize later”. For the greatest philosopher of the last generation to tell me things like “you’ve got quite a good brain”, he was extremely encouraging of my talent. I suppose that with his advice always in the back of my mind I am learning to let it flow a bit better now. It is still quite a painful process. It is a vulnerable process. People seem to like it, but my worry is that because it is less straightforwardly objective, that it will be less true and less marketable. What do people actually value and why?
Personal shit, I suppose. If I am not to write fiction, then perhaps a memoir style will suffice. In paying close attention to the progression of my life’s journey, the interests I take on bring me babysteps closer to Truth; I always consider the relevant connections between all branches of my personal knowledge, old and new. Of course there is the personality and philosophy stuff that I have and continue to burn through, but most recently, for example, in my dabbling in kink life, exploring more sexually, and coming to terms with the fact that I am not monogamous (which is something quite unconventional yet relatable to many in itself), I have come to see how intimately tied to every aspect of one’s being one’s sexuality is. I think that what I am most interested in and purposefully intended toward can be summarized as “Truth”, so this new discovery and topic of research has become a necessary part of my journey of fulfilling that purpose to the world. I am tying sexuality in with what I already know about philosophy, personality, and all else in coherent and meaningful ways.
Of course everything profoundly meaningful connects dots, shatters boundaries between disciplines. This is why academic work is not for me. The philosophers and psychologists for example generally do not collaborate, as if they are not relevant to one another, and that obviously severely limits the truth-seeking process (not to mention applicability for the common person) in both fields. It’s so insanely shortsighted, but alas there is no correlation between intelligence and wisdom. You have to be intelligent to be a professor, but you must be wise to see Truth.
I have never had a problem connecting dots, seeing Truth, communicating with people one-on-one. The problem is in how to apply that knowledge to the world so that it provides me livelihood, because the more meaningless work I do, the more I wither. Money and personal biases aside, the ONLY things that I can see have intrinsic value are art and ideas. They are the only things I care about because they are the only things in which Truth need not be censored. How to make those things work so that I do not end up a complete vagrant still remains a mystery to me, but for now I suppose I will just keep writing as Roger suggested, without the worry of “for whom” which seems to be the main thing overemphasizing structure and thereby limiting substance.











