Jaina

Jain is the name we mistakenly refer to as a religion, from the region between India and Persia, and underlies the colloquial traditions from a time before Little Zoroaster was in the womb and the lotus flower gave birth to god. Myth-time precedes even religion, a particularly nasty bit of artwork by every state rendering truth an absolute status justifying every authority on any matter of discourse in the pursuit of dematerialisation. The collage called "Truth" only looks systematic because of its symmetry of effort. All materialism is the extraction from or exclusion of the matrix, a word once referring to mothers. Hence the modern truism, "to prevent crimes of the aged, we must start with the young". Budding taste is always the first casualty.

As it is etymologically related to Jin, genie, genetic, knowledge, gnostic, gonad and generous, Jainism can no longer be seen as limited to a region, religion or branch there-from. In fact, it is a better match with 1) Tao & Shinto as philosophical ontologies (neither of which represent systematization of beliefs at the colloquial level except when corrupted by statecraft, academia or schools of divinity); 2) the so-called "goddess cult", a form of poetic discourse critical of imposed social institutions (before the rapacious imposition, there may have been no cult at all); and 3) a theory of magic wherein tricks are exposed as clues to an unfolding drama of nature, itself merely a set of tricks performed on an indeterminate stage peripheral to an audience rather than front and center. At none of these performances are invited deities unless stripped of authority, where-after they are reduced to the mere life of mundane spirits muttering profanities as often as any wisdom. Therefore, there is no sense of "worship" except in the eyes of alien visitors refusing to participate because they are armed with the truth of objectivity in a geometrically bound universe, traveling the furthest but all the while seeing nothing but mirrors or crystal balls foretelling of fodder for increased production, a euphemism for maximization of the flow of tribute in the cosmopolitical river ever flowing back to headquarters. "Hey, it's just a living", they say. But you and I know better, eh?

Beneath the drama lies Jain's Epistemology of Maybe, a discourse never exposed to modern children except as a synonym for "No!". Basically, it runs thus:

"All positive affirmations are in some sense true, false, indeterminate or ambiguous, and every combination there-of."

While irony is always welcome, contradiction is without merit, including the war between positive and negative movement. For example:

I affirm that (positive)
nothing above is necessarily true (negative).

We are taught the second line renders the first absurd following the arithmetic of subtraction: (+1 -1 = Zero) producing an antimatter-matter collision resulting in universal annihilation or post-nihilist Armageddon. To the optimist comes impossibility, the pessimist sees a positive outcome.

The key to the seeming paradox is in the juxtaposition, "some sense". If the absolute is a bag, no sense can be quantified to be contained within it, except as it is written with a "C". Religion or any other state logic becomes denuded as a systematization of bags containing copper penned by sacred writes – the absolute (truth) is the bullshit of confinement in one's own bag and one is reduced in value to the currently fashionable currency.

Armed with the tactic of epistemology (a provision modern scientists so often forget to pack), sense acquires an aesthetic feeling and some is an unquantifiable 'maybe' erased from the thesaurus entry which says "See 'No'". The fruit of this union is easily picked, ever hanging from low branches so as not to break one's neck and manifests its appearance as the bullshit detector (an organ no anatomist will welcome into his treatise of organic systematics but a hint of which may be found in The 6th Compendium of Synergistic Complexities). Jaina is thereafter seen as the poetry of possibility. And back full circle to "Gen" (it is more properly a spiral when the two ends miss – like missing fingers on the street, Genny fails the drunk-test after sipping too much gin, or why the sun & moon set us to wobble in a cosmic tailspin), positive value takes on the sense of "generation". What is generated is the metaphor, another word for familiarity, and travelling along the discontinuum of meaning, an hypothesis of effective synergy, objective nature becomes provisional, just like the cornucopia of Fortuna, that hypothetical (that is, poetical) goddess of chance, questions, spinning wheels and daggers which the aestheticist, Asger Jorn wrote on prior to the great in-exclusion.

see – Fiction & Taboo