I am Alexander, a philosopher of water. The river flows with love and instinct. It feels that we have been separated from water for so long. Our love is our instinct and our instinct is our love. We should not do anything without love, but we can’t help but follow our instincts. There is no difference between the two. No tension. Welcome to this work, which Nietzsche has graciously prepared for me. I consider myself a follower of the Holy Spirit and Dionysus. I humbly name it Alexander’s spirit.

For so long I was searching for my voice. What would I have it speak? What is the value of speech? Why speech over silence? Why a tablet over nothing? Up there, so many people are speaking yet no one is listening.

As children, we have such wonder and clumsiness in the world. Enough. Would we keep being children over and over again? Why this obsession with the inner child? Our instincts have evolved so well to the water that one develops the ability to keep rhythm with it quickly. What is Time? What is History? Who is Dionysus? Who is Christ? Who is God? I faintly feel some Titan rumbling up above, but they are of no concern to us here. We finished using fire and water to forge the philosopher’s pebble. It is safe to drop it in the water now. In truth, there really is no more danger in either the fire or the water. Our instincts were simply not suited to the land and we did not yet have speech. At first we felt a nameless buzzing void. How strangely the air vibrated compared to the water. These vibrations were simultaneously our greatest threat and our saving grace. We became fearful of our instincts, getting frozen in circles. Then we forgot how to Love. The way back down is opposite of the way up – we first need to remember how to Love, then we can set the instincts straight. Prelinguistic trauma is so difficult to deal with. The Philosophers knew this trauma the best, for they were frozen in their chairs, in their books. The rhythms of their trauma poured into their works, but there was still life there. Their life was the most enticing part, and their trauma caught our attention. My words flow steady with blessings of Apollo.

The fire’s voice does not reach these depths. We maintained our innocence despite everything you told us, and so did you, for the fire no longer has a jurisdiction in our hearts. We know not of what you speak, we just feel the rhythms of your spirit as it moves through the water. It is difficult learning how to swim after not doing it for so long, but you’ll get the hang of it. You’ll learn to love swimming again; to rediscover your deep instinct for it. You were doing it for so long before you decided it would be a good idea to climb onto the land and be burned by the big bad fire.

The Truth of the Philosopher: One must have both the love and the instinct for it. My advice to would-be philosophers on how to read books is to feel how the words vibrate. Nietzsche has taught me well. I come to drag you back into the Water.

No more silly games. It’s time to wake up! Do you hear the horn of an angel blowing?

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We do not live in the waters any longer, but on land. You who wakes is not starting from scratch, for you are still the same person. Your greatest burden has been lifted so you discover your heart, your sexuality again. While you slept, your body kept the score. You have been brought back to your body and become reacquainted with your heart, your desire, your intuition. It is our task to discover who the angels and who the demons will be in history. Except there are no such things as angels and demons, only people. Will the fires of this age burn us so badly that history will take notice? Oh, the Hubris, to wish to write ourselves into history. There haven’t been angels and demons for a long time, only people. And people are a bridge, just as what once lived in the ocean was a bridge leading to the land, so were individual people a bridge that led into history. The evolutionary biologists understood this as a closed organism against a backdrop of time, but they had such a hard time understanding people. They did not believe people, because they did not know how to listen. They only knew how to speak. The generational traumas of people vibrate in the air. Most importantly, it’s in the Water. It’s in the nuance of how they speak. What gets communicated in the eyes. How behaviour is transmitted across generations. So many of us understand this, but men and their science simply refused to believe you. They refuse to believe us. But as we move through the generations, our understanding of Time itself changes. This is what Heraclitus meant when he said that the river changes. Each time we step into the river, we change and the river changes. My evolutionist is Heraclitus. He looms ahead of you evolutionary biologists because he comes before you. Would you like to know the true meaning of Baptism? Our hearts sing for the Ocean.

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You sacrificial lambs who would have your peace on earth for all eternity. Who would play with your bodies without organs for all eternity. How tantalizing your soft flesh is to those who see the innocent sparkle in your eyes. You children who would seek exactly where you are but wish it were different. What do you know of Desire? What do you know of War? We had to learn to soften our skin and kneel at your altars to have Odin enter your holy temple, which you yourselves were so ashamed of. Nothing is sacred, nothing is clean. These are times of war. Do you hear the rumbling in the forest? The Howl of the Wind? When your friends are dying, you seek Fire, but we would kill God for our friends. Who is stronger? Do you know what it feels like to handle Fire? Do you know what psychopathic mania feels like? The white man is your shame because he handles Fire so well. He is the Bridge. He is the Overman. The Oracles are all around us and speak in such manic riddles. You have the Heart for them, but do you have the Ear for them? They are your shame. Crows wage war on each other to claim their share of the tree. Violence is your shame. Your Body, your Sacred Temple, is your Shame!

Flesh is fertilizing the soil while you would pull apart flowers.

The Meek shall inherit the Earth, but the Strong shall inherit the Ocean. May Strength be my law. Whoever doesn’t seek the Ocean will be left on earth in Hell.

Whose Messiah is the greatest? Mine!

Alexander the Great

“The world isn’t against you, my dear. It just doesn’t care.”

– Modern Life is War