The Return of the Gods: An Introduction

Those who know their history know we are doomed to repeat it.

That formulation came to mind a few days ago in a conversation about history; it was meant in jest, but I almost immediately seized upon its import, and it has been coursing about my head for a bit, desiring me to do something with it. Running concurrently with that is the culmination of tempered dealings with a certain difficult person, who has lately moved me to condemnation (not directly with this person, since that would achieve nothing), leading me to begin writing a blog post. After two paragraphs and a day's reflection, I realized that I was writing a few essays in one: a rant, essentially, and that I was skirting about the what I really needed and wanted to focus on. Reenter the heading line of this post; I realized that what I needed to focus on was a topic of great interest to me since I first heard about it, for it is a Big Idea. First learning of him in the critical writings of Harold Bloom, Giambattista Vico proposed in his magnum opus Scienza Nuova (The New Science) a revolution of history in which there are three "distinct stages (corsi): the ages of gods, heroes, and men," until there is a return (ricorsi) to a theocracy, in which people are most poetical (Bloom proposes a fourth, intermediate stage, at least in literature: a chaotic age, a transitional period back to a theocratic age).  Bloom believes that we are in the final stages of the Chaotic Age, and indeed are already in the midst of a new Time of Gods; this series of posts is my acceptance, reasoning, and explication of this notion.

What is most central for me is the concern of what this ricorsi already looks like (and hence why I think it is upon us), where it could go, and the question of authority. There will be plenty of compare and contrast between the previous Theocratic Age and the incoming one, at least as much as I can muster. anyway Since this is a blog, I feel the need to be short, concise, and must forbear deep research and thorough essaying; consider it the first foray into a possibly larger project. I do not have all the posts planned, but since I am writing about a new Dawn of Deities, I will start with Religion, and I know I will follow it with Science; indeed, the rest of the series will focus on the institutions of authority present in our world.

Like Fortuna here.

"But enough about me. Why don't you talk about me . . ."

It is not in my nature to talk about myself (at least directly). Part of it is a feeling of inferiority, another part is a flight from solipsism, which I always fear I am sinking into. Even in this blog, I try to stay away from myself and focus more on the topic, so that anything relating to me personally is incidental. This can be great for aesthetic pursuits, as with that paragon Shakespeare, who so removed his self from his works that we know, to paraphrase Borges, everything and nothing about him. It is not so great in life.

Despite so much praise and so much belief from others that I will succeed fabulously, I must admit that I suffer from a rather low sense of self-regard and an immense doubt that I'll amount to even a hill of beans, and it is nothing new. I had two small nervous breakdowns before college, and almost another one, which, in an attempt to quell it before it overtook me, led to telling my parents I am bi, which only helped in taking my mind from one issue to another. The first two dealt specifically with the immense burden I felt to succeed (mostly coming from myself), while the almost-one was related to my sexuality. But they all were connected by the feeling of unworth. I did not think I could succeed, and I did not like myself at the time for liking all sexes (oh, younger me. . .). Only now am I fully getting over the latter, but now that the stakes are higher, the former is even more troublesome. As a composer, I have to go in with a certain mentality that what I am doing is good, at least worthy of performance, or why bother? Almost every day, though, I face the fear that I am outmoded, old-fashioned, and practically every new piece is a reluctant embrace of more "modern" practices (though I am really embracing the expansion of my personal art). This inferiority is also a hindrance to conversation, for rarely do I feel like I have something of interest to say (which compounds my natural shyness and difficulty with words while talking).

As stated above, another part of the problem is the desire to avoid falling into myself. Solipsism, "the philosophical idea that only one's own mind is sure to exist," is great in art (Lady Bracknell in The Importance of Being Earnest is a great example), but you should probably turn the other way if you encounter a solipsist. For me, the temptation to fall into such a state is a defensive measure, a shielding from  that which could cause me trouble. To ward it off, I try to take myself as un-seriously as possible. The title of this blog is a somewhat serious thing, but it is also my joke on the egotism involved in blogging. Also, I think arrogance can coincide with solipsism; a friend asked about the difference between arrogance and confidence, and among the answers, I offered that arrogance is the opinion of others that one has padded his resume; for a solipsist, his resume is everything. It is a dangerous trait to have, because, as I understand it, it comes at the expense of empathy. At any rate, though I don't think I will truly become such, I fear it nonetheless.

I offer this much of myself, first, to get it out of it the way (so I can avoid bringing it up again and again on this blog), but also to discuss the notion of talking about oneself. How far can one go in self-praise before it becomes boasting? How much should one reveal to anyone and everyone? Is there such a thing as full disclosure, and if so, is it a good thing? And how much should privacy be sacrificed? I have chosen to forgo some privacy for myself by writing having this blog, but I still retain the right to my self. These are self-revealing times, and people leave much too little to be desired.