The Irruption of the Irrational


Irrational! Difficult matter. Disturbing but capital. Got to find out. Irrational is the other name of madness. Scary isn’it? When one has chosen to seek the truth, one knows the paths that border the abyss. At every moment, one runs a terrible, obsessive risk. Especially not to cross the barrier that separates common sense from delirium. Ifever such a barrier exists!


All of a sudden it blows up in my face. Madness bursts in. Or the idea of madness, which is the same thing. Paranoia immediately gets involved. I don’t recognize anything. A hirsute and delirious carousel takes the place of reality. Serious. There’s no doubt I’m crazy. To the masses. Completely crazy. Good for the cuckoos’ nest. I forget to believe without believing in it. Shower of avatars. Beginning of disappointments.


Pudding Juice

I see clearly now. As far as the realm of confusion is concerned. What is irrational? The absence of logic. This is the mode of operation of the unconscious. The logic of the unconscious is illogical. His way of thinking does not proceed from cause to effect, as does our consciousness, prisoner of discursive logic. The unconscious has its links that confuse common sense.

Charles Baudelaire, immortal poetCommon sense tells us that the things of the earth exist a little only, and that true reality is only in dreams.


No common sense for the unconscious: it goes in all directions. It does not obey gravity, has no gravity, rises as you breathe and retracts when you blow. Time does not matter to him, nor space. Only intense and very rich flashes take the place of organized thought. The absence of synapses between certain abdominal neurons could explain this apparent confusion.

The unconscious can confuse you so much that you would think you are crazy. Who is not? The record is held by those who think they are wise. The unconscious is a mirror with larks, a trap galore. The grammar of the unconscious is in 5D when that of the consciousness is stupidly linear.

Constructing a pictorial or literary work according to unconscious grammar remains an unexplored ideal. Perhaps the upstream. Lautréamont maybe. Dalí too — just a little bit. The music is better placed for this delirium. Wagner. Mahler. Kurt Weil. Pink Floyd. The Who. Those who took LSD, mescaline or ayahuasca saw their unconscious. Like those who have done regression sessions, ie in sensory deprivation chamber. They have experienced eternal moments. They came back different from before.

For most good people, it’s as clear as the darkest night. They gonna trip, stumble and fall — and forget all


Rock Water

Encouraging title for them good people. The rock water is lighter than the pudding juice, except for white pudding, unless the rock contains iron ore or coal. Iron rusts and coal burns. And when it burns, it hurts. Ooch.

Irrational. The French seem to like clowns. I don’t have to be French. It’s nonsense. The English are gossiping. Irrational is inexplicable. A young child accepts it when he meets it. An adult refuses it and gets scared. Miracles are part of the irrational. Teleportation. Double sight. Third ear. Telepathy. Prayer. Meditation. Creation. Art. Finally the irrational is more my country than rational France. When the irrational occurs, madness is not far away. But with too much madness, we risk settling there permanently. And end up crazy like Nietzsche.




Yes, how did it happen? Slowly. No wolf, no flying wolf. I wandered for a long time on the edge of madness. This is where the truth seeker can make a lot of discoveries. But these parts are dangerous. The madness without warning jumps in your face and you are good for the asylum. The best when you feel that it spoils: drop it. Leave immediately what you are doing. Forget it, danger! Find the calm waters of Wikipedia.

There’s no risk of going crazy as long as you only see the banal and the déjà vu. Yes, but you have to deal with tons of fake information, blunders, ignorance, lies. And it’s always pissed me off. So I took too many risks. I didn’t want to give it up when I realized it was spoiling. Instead of holing up in a quiet hole, I continued the explo and fell on a beak.

What For?

Health problems, threats to my life, inexplicable fatigue. I’ve cut back on covid, that’s enough. But I’ve caught a lot worse. The fear of being afraid. the delusion of thinking I’m crazy. All those who venture off the beaten path without the lure of gain, without the desire for glory, without seeking victory over a rival, all these wackos are crazy to bind according to current social criteria. The sacrosanct criteria of the limited liability company that leads us to the slaughterhouse.

We must overcome these differences of opinion. I am only looking for myself among the rubble of the world. I only want the truth in the midst of the filth of injustice. My kingdom is not of this world, know it — though I have nothing of a Christ or savior of any kind. Would I only be able to save myself as the Buddhists believe? Or give up the world, goods, pleasures, feed me only prana? I don’t think so. My quest does not require it. I follow the middle way. The obstacles in my way are not material — the material is a fragile screen. Problem solved.

The daily heroism of a single mother raising her daughters is something to admire. We do not encounter on our way any trials beyond our strength. If the obstacle is too high, go around it. If the precipice is too deep, spread your wings. If four oceans separate you from it, learn to swim. You will experience joys without number and pleasures without shadow.


Praise of Madness

We are men, little men. Or women, small flames. Why were we placed there? If the answer remains hidden, break the rock. Reduce the stone to dust and under the powder, the water that will muffle is fresh and good. Fill your tank with it.

Only a fool like me can sit like this, without concern for his life or his desires, tied to the rock as Prometheus was, without hope of any escape, without a look for his delay, his disappointments, his stories. Focused on one goal: to tell. To revive by the words of lives and summers, suns gone, empires forgotten, lives escaped, realities that did not exist in this world, but elsewhere, but so far, why? I have no idea.

The order is issued in me, I hear myself when I sleep, I feel it when I eat, it drowns me when I drink. The order is imperative. Act! said the voice. Walk straight, the future is there, you will not get lost. And the order directs me like the helm of a ship. If you have to get up early, shorten your rest, I shake my old bones and answer immediately.

You have to be crazy. I have to be crazy in this case. I am for sure. Be careful when you read me, this evil is contagious.


Fatal Portal

The irrational sleeps with your dreams. Run fast, run fast. Your sleep is the great portal of the Unknown. Monumental portal. Crossing it is fatal. One risks one’s mental health, the good deal! Happiness is hidden behind. Sacrifice the mind to touch the light. Stare at the dominant ego. Break the mirror of self-contemplation.

We spend the first half of our life forging a strong ego, and the second half to get rid of it. (Carl Gustav Jung)


The ego is your strength at first. Your weakness afterwards. Jung and I go against the tide. That’s the way in kaliyuga. Flee from the crowd that flows into the mould. It is up to you to be yours. To accompany yourself in your dreams. Learning to read them without interpreting them. Living your dreams. Discovering yourself as you are, far from the world, far from the waves, the victory is profound. You will reap the gold of sleep. What a sure way to get rich!

Our society cultivates the ego in all its forms, including the worst. Cult of the small self that we think big. Stupidity and vulgarity erected in doctrines. Supermarket without walking: do your shopping on the screen. We find everything for those who are nothing.

The ego is a real brake when we seek enlightenment and dream of light. The ego, the other name of the mind. I’m not talking about that winning mind — made-in-USA neologism that’s not in my vocabulary. I’m talking about the mind versus the physical. The mind that flirts with bookish knowledge, discursive logic, erudition, intellectualism, the jumble of academic, academic, pseudo-elitist baggage, will you be silent.

In the toilet the fashionable illusion that swears only by mental knowledge, the only way out to the light. I believe quite the contrary. Ego leads to darkness.

The ego is the only part of human being which will not know awakening (Lamaist proverb)

The mind is the only part of you that will never know awakening. And without awakening, sleep falls. It falls from above.


To go further:   Ordinary Madness   Controlled Madness  Water of Madness  Jung and the Divine Madness



Doubt is an unpleasant mental state, but certainty is absurd.