Titled Metaphysik Herder, this edition of Kant’s lectures are begun with the statement:
It is not necessary that the finitude of the world, which is yet to be proven, is brought into the definition
Immanuel Kant [Cosmology]
The world is taken as a real whole.
This world we perceive, it is the only world we know.
Perhaps it is endless. I know I will always be able to combine new ideas evermore.
And while some of my vocabulary persists, a change in season brings a change of perspective. Along with some seasonal flavour.
Can you tell I’ve been watching cooking videos recently? My oh my, cooking sure is a chore. Even taking the stance of a nutritionist (instead of one that eats) can become tiresome. Or maybe it’s just the lack of sunlight now.
However, to admit such a fact is to concede oneself to the cycle of nature. Yet a defining aspect of being a human means the capacity to reject such laws of this world.
No. Instead, such changes in energy can be ascribed to the way nature works.
We are in Fall now. A time for harvesting what we sowed. To cultivate that which we enjoyed over the last months. Now we recede gently into nostalgia.
I go back to thoughts of sublime sights that inspire me.
Such as the break in clouds. Today it revealed a purple sky and golden floors. It was so affective, it spurred me from a small slumber.
So, reading these lecture notes, an early Kant began PART <pars> II of cosmology with a rejection of an aspect of the world.
To truly start a project of his lifetime, consideration, and at times, rejection of our past and contemporaries is integral. It sets ourselves apart from the rest of the world. Yet the very act of writing in a language at least one other understands confines us back to such world. Then we are left with a better picture of this world we all try to comprehend.
To either establish or realise the common laws. To ponder the idea of universal justice.
The task of any writer is to establish an order of sorts – to realise the totality of these complexities and neatly fit them into the work, née text.
Yet the reader pulls apart this superb effort. They can reject the order in which the work is intended. We play with the rectangle. We play with the receptacle. Then when we want to really get to work, we play with time and challenge ourselves to harvest the rows of letters so graciously composed by the thinker.
One of the hardest things about this season is not the rains. But it is the reminder that the days now appear to progress quicker.
Let nostalgia become the suit of armour you wear through these dark ages.
For inside you is infinite nova receptive to your old self.
Taumu 