The Ascetic Joker -- A Poem and A Note

(Philosocom's Asceticism Directory)

(Directory on Fear: https://www.philosocom.com/post/on-fear-and-the-right-to-resist-it)

Introduction

Many years ago, I wrote a poem that explains my motives for living a more ascetic life and renouncing it to an extent. Not in the name of a religious deity, but in the name of strength, serenity, and saving money.

In other words, I am an irreligious ascetic who tries to live only the smaller aspects of life, such as daily chores and work, moments of rejuvenation, and resting/sleeping.

You will almost never see me socializing, hanging out in nightclubs, or even going abroad for tourism. I only rarely go to restaurants, too.

I am therefore a contemporary semi-hermit who aspires to dedicate his life to rectify the world through philosophy, and to achieve a state of continuous serenity through my work.

"But why are you doing this to yourself, Tomasio?" You may probably ask. The reason for that will be momentarily presented in the following poem, where I take the image of a jester, heavily inspired by Diogenes, the ancient Greek philosopher, who critiques the orthodox ways of living; the endless pursuit of many after ultimate happiness and mental security.

Enjoy.

The Ascetic Joker

I, have ascended

From the unnecessities

Of our universe.

There is no glow,

So bright,

Which can convince me

To end my life and blow.

I observe the people who

Build pyramids of sand,

Tying themselves to others

With emotional glue,

And call their love "true",

Following the herd's command,

Afraid to face their own emptiness.

But I find it so humorous,

When I contemplate this in my seclusion.

Inhale, and exhale,

The universe's ignored hell.

My heart is so pale,

With such amusement.

[Laughing]

Noises and coloured lights,

Are things which without them makes people,

So afraid, so lone, with their frights.

Meaning is a subjective term,

But only few wonder and claim

Whether subjectivity is or not actually existent.

We, are, surrounded with emptiness, but we deny it,

As many of us afraid, and the rest are blind,

With their closed eyes of deep thoughts,

And continue to play with their draughts,

And never look around and beyond their projector's varied lights.

Recreation, so to face the self, too late,

Worldly adventures – an internal escape.

There is nothing, beyond what I already do,

That I crave, that I wish to woo.

Excessive activity is, a sign of anxiety,

To keep one away, from the void's immortality,

I've produced so much meaning through my creations,

But how come that a grain of meaninglessness is still intact?

In my seclusion, I have contemplated,

And above the earthly, I have ascended.

The tragic of existence, I have attended,

And now, my inner mask can be truly dead!

[Laughing]

Life is a one-time game,

But you cannot restart, save, or pause.

But why should I "carpe diem,"

When I understand

That the void is something that cannot be fully overcome?

All the glamour, fame, sparks, heights, sex, and love

Cannot elevate me beyond the void's final bound.

Happiness and joy do exist. I do not disagree.

But they are only short-term satisfactions,

Satisfactions that exist for a certain period of time,

And then we feel like we need to provide them all in a continuous loop.

I have no fear of exploring the strange and the obscure.

I am no conformist.

I can accept and live with this void.

[Laughing]