Elements of the New Metaphysics and Other Writings of the Last Philosopher

By Loren Berengere

Also by this author:

Essays on Time and Space
Infinity and the Supermen
The New Politics: the spirit and fate of conservatism and progressivism
Political Mythologies of the Right and the Left are Detected and Overthrown
The Sixteen Satires

Productions already written:

Berengere contra Nietzsche
Jeremiads from the Bottom of a Mousehole: reply to Søren Kierkegaard, and other close encounters with the history of theology
The Relation of the Artwork to Time and Space: Notes on Aesthetics (excerpted in this volume)
Exemplary Epigrams for the Smart Set
Elements of the New Sovereignty

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669818076

Loren Berengere

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Copyright © 2022 by Loren Berengere.

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Rev. date: 06/06/2022

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CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

PART ONE

The Emergence of Actual Being Out of Non-Being. Possible Worlds as Primordial Cosmogonies and Possible Worlds as Logical Stipulations. Possible Worlds as Subversive Re-Unifiers of Actual Being and the Transformation of Androgenic Praxis. The Concurrent Temporalities of These Worlds Reveal History as the Display of Ideals at War.

PART TWO

Being as Actuality Unified. The Kryptophany of the Possible as Indicative of the Unthought Outer Limit of Being. The Possible Breaks Up the Unity of Primordial Physis. The Abandonment of the Possible in the Wake of the Second Coming of Being and the Eclipse of Androgenic Praxis as the Experience of Nihilism.

PART THREE

The Ideals Produce Objects of Love. The Scribal Kryptophany. Thinking as the Unconscious Reception of a Commission. The Authority and Office of the Thinker as Creator and Destroyer of Worlds.

PART FOUR

Hotch-Potch-Lucilian Satires on the Motives and Pretension of the Analytic Philosophers

• Don’t let’s argue

• Bertie says the present king of France is wise

• What is refutation in philosophy, G. E. Moore?

• That’s Ludwig

• What kind of bloke Analytic philosophy appeals to

• Wittgenstein and the illusory promise

• When philosophers pull bad rabbits out of otherwise seemingly good hats

• Wittgenstein’s problems isolated on magnificent thrones

• What is Rightism?

• What is Leftism?

• What hair-splitters must logically deny

• What for is Gilbert Ryle all riled-up?

• Come to zee Cabaret

• Toys in the Attic

• How many Schoolmen can muster on a halved oyster shell?

• What philosophy in England means

• The meaning of meaning

• The heroic journey is for heroes only

• And speaking of religion

• What the brash Heideggerians believe about the Analytic philosophers

• Psychoanalysis of the philosophers

PART FIVE

Assorted Observations Concerning Why I Am so Brash, Why I Am so Serious, Why I Take This so Seriously, Why I Am a Sign of the Times, Why I Scale so Many Towers to Squeeze Down so Many Mouseholes, Why I Am so Doctrinairely Satirical, and Why Everything Was Wrong Side Up Before I Came Along

• What I heard today

• My Jubilee

• In the ears of the philosophy professors

• Peter Strawson and the ghost in the eyebrow machine

• Whenever I see her legs

• When the reversal is reversed another new history begins

• Wittgenstein’s poker

• Culture as domestication?

• What happened when I met a bad-mouth cholla out on the highway

• To the cool strollers beneath the Stoa

• The volitant volition

• Treat me nice

• What do the brothers say?

• Henry Miller and the fate of the wicked scribblers

• Gay Pride/Rough Trade

• Posthumous ejaculation and the squirting female

• Richness, economy, euphoria, megalomania, and other delectable steak sauces I enjoy on my grain-fed beef

• Res gestae

• Where Nietzsche was

• William Faulkner and the honkytonk kind

• See Jumpha Lahiri Jump

• Square-haloed Leo Strauss and the pulling down of the incorrect statues

• The scene at the muscadine vine

• My impossibles have no nisuses

• The Volcano

• These live the death of those, while those die the life of these

• A parfait for Diogenes

• Muskrat Love and the Lucky Dip Mixed Doubles Tournament

• Journalists hated?

• Justice for the journalists

• Let us go up to Ramoth-Gilead!

• Hungry for philosophy

• Why I like the Japanese philosophers

• Constitutionalism’s Constitution

• Roads that take you out of New York

• I want to know

• Sharp and free

• Sophia’s baddest word

• Henry Miller’s cigarette is short and not only his cigarette

• Women who read and write and do the Bunga-Bunga

• How to talk to a Black man

• The philosophy of the future is now

• We give a wide berth to no big deal

• Commanding philosophy

• Willy the Kid and the wily James boy

• Sic et Non

• Descartes swoons the salons

• Redneck girl

• Loren Berengere’s lean years

• San Francisco men

• God is Dead, Linda, Linda is Dead, God

• Last word on our Analytic philosophers

• For every dapper journalist I have a dapper jail cell

• To do philosophy

• Unshirted, I’m walking backward through Taos, New Mexico

• Thoreau’s Nature is John Brown’s Slaves: portrait of the holiness imposter as an amateur hobo

• Philosophy and the final countdown

• Crackerjack philosophy relieves the pain

• Secrets of the breathless Aegean

• Nights and Days on the Aegean sea

• Sartrians and Siliconians

• How are the things that are?

• No exit?

• Amor Fati, anyone?

• I who’ve seen tawny Acragas from the sea

• For the hard heads of conservatives: a rotary drill

• What I foresee

• Desolation Angels on steroids

• Philosophy as the art of sacrifice: where is your blood?

• The last philosopher’s new beginning

• Some shit will fall

• For the pampered journalists, a feathered cap

• The last philosopher comes in mud-hued graveclothes, loose him and let him go

• When what is becomes what is not and what is not becomes what is

• In the inner circle

• Mountainpeak Epigoni

• You’re licking up the wrong lollipop

• I get my kicks on Route 666

• Gendered spatiality and the unmentionables

• Reply to Marcuse

• Sloterdijk’s Apple

• If you think I’m a little Quixoteishly wacky

• Final Verdict on Sloterdijk and the German Spirit: a charming synthesis of Hipponax and Habakkuk

• Everythingisworldsandwhirl

• The most dangerous type and the sumptuous witchery thereof

• The broken-hearted victories of the great ravaged spirits

• White supremacy?

• The builders are rejected and their cornerstones with them

• Where we are in America

• Writing in Babylon is the only way to fly

• Amid the yellow dust devils I met the most dangerous philosopher in Mexico

• What a German philosopher came to believe about Tyche

• Living in San Francisco

• I’m a running raff about the City listening to the horn moanin low

• Brilliant minds

• Chaos, Order, Art

• How Nietzsche’s priests forsook their master

• How Rainer Maria Rilke loved and met his pussy

• Why I disturb real men

• Open the door and let him in: wherefore kick ye at my sacrifice and at mine afflictions?

• San Francisco bellboys

• Whamo Bama Bom Bom

• Why they want to come to America

• What do you believe?

• What does your conscience say?

• Who’s bad?

• What is the Seal of Liberation?

• What makes you hyper-heroic?

• What is most inhumane?

APPENDIX

Excerpts from Essays on the Work of Art’s Relation to Time and Space, Notes on Aesthetics, Volume Two

• Hear the new philosophy or get off my Cloud

• Art as protean instantiation

• The transformation of the transformatory

• Art, philosophy, religion as moments in a mega-dialectic

• Schopenhauer

• Exposure to the artwork and the secret thereof

• Art as occasioning the exodus from finite temporality

• The idea of the dangling man

• Being in which world?

• The artwork produces pleasure, end of story?

• Artistic pleasure is temporary deliverance from the realm of praxis

• The idea of deferred discontent and the dangling man

• Existentialism

• My desert vernissage

• Hegel’s declaration

• Trouble in paradise: the onset of artistic deferred discontent as shock and unease

• Up, down, and up again

• The exigent worldlessness of the perceiver of the artwork

• The where of the artwork

• Saying No to life

• Counterparts are actuals with faint traces of possible being

• What happened in Hemlock Alley

• Parallel existential movements

• Wouldn’t you like to ride in my beautiful balloon?

• Who’s he riding a rickshaw for?

• The windows of the Overworld, flung open

• The temporality of space

• The still small voice, amid the din and fury, speaks

• The being-in-elsewhere of pure genius

• Sublime spatiality as world-eloignment

• Sublime spatiality alters the flow of time

• Berengere contra Nietzsche

• Contra Heidegger

• Nietzsche’s Goethe as cloudland drool

• What torments of unsoundness must I endure to taste the pleasures of Babylon?

• Where the past goes and why it doesn’t stay there: the intersecting of temporality and Great Time

• The secret trajectories of finite time and their meaning

PART SIX

Parting Epigrammatical Shots from the Swayback of a Yellow Palomino I’m Running through the Nevada Territory with a Yen for Strange Sights and Rare Knowledges

• What I did with my lifelong education in philosophy

• Why I am not so clever

• Superiority in America, what is it?

• If you’re going into Arizona

• If you’re going into law

• If you’re going into literature

• If you’re going into philosophy

• lgbtq

• What I learned about Frisco

• What I learned about Vegas

• What I learned about Seattle

• What I learned about Manhattan

• What I learned about El Paso

• What is Constitutional adjudication?

• What I learned about Texas

• What Marcel Proust told Colette about his rejection

• Why the new wave of feminist philosophers turned on Simone de Beauvoir

• What has obstructed the course of philosophy?

• What do we ask once a higher form is attained?

• What is Anti-Semitism?

• Why philosophers don’t like each other

• What de Maistre proves

• What frightened Stendhal

• Desideratum of Draco

• What Faulkner, Hemingway, and James Joyce valued above all

• What writers keep their eyes peeled for

• But why do you write?

• What is talent?

• What is déclassé?

• Goethe

• Emerson

• Augustine

• Nietzsche

• Dante

• Rilke

• Dionysius the Pseudo-Areopagite

• Albertus Magnus

• Shakespeare

• Balzac

• Lord Byron

• Any way you want to tell it

• Why the epigrammatist is a bee

• Berengere et Barracuda

• Dionysus is coming out

• And speaking of Michel de Montaigne

• What Heraclitus the Obscure and Schopenhauer the Bold got from cutting down fellow writers

• Who’s the wild one?

• Just yesterday you wild ones read Nietzsche

• What is choice?

• Man against TransMan

• Philosophy without Berengere

• Hide this from the proud pomp of our desperate Rightist rhetors

• Why Hernando Cortez spit on the Aztec idols

• Why you’ll never find me slumping around the languished piano in dear old Manhattan

• The practitioners of philosophy and the practice of philosophy

• Who are the enemies of the people?

• What is living in a free country?

• Who sees the light?

• What happens the moment after you cast your ballot

• My question concerning open societies

• What the pompous Analytic philosophers can do

• Does it really come down to you against the whole wide world?

• What I paint

• What is egoism?

• What is passive non-resistance?

• What upstages free expression?

• Who are the most successful?

• Who are the bestselling authors?

• How to make an American Fortune 500 omelette

• Who is prepared to hear me?

• What must you sacrifice to the mind, the soul, the non-material?

• What does a great philosopher do?

• Why my books are so much trouble

• What do I know?

• Is it true that you will find illumined shards of every principal philosophic characterological type hidden somewhere beneath my canopy?

• What do we recognize in ourselves?

• What is ignoble?

• What I told Mujahadeen Sumchai over dinner

• Why the English hate me

• Who are the beautiful people?

• Why the Scots hate me

• Why the Irish hate me

• Why the Jews love me

• Why they look at me funny in Alabam

• Why I give George Washington such a warm welcome

• Who is the real hero of the Right?

• What is incomprehensible to everyone but us?

• Who do you think you are?

• Are you happy?

• Have you run out of visions?

• What exactly happens if you don’t succeed?

• Then you’ll give up writing I take it?

• You’ll be writing philosophy?

• What are you doing with those royalty payments that are getting bigger and more frequent?

• Why are you so coool?

• Would you like to tell your beautiful and rare readers, now that this beautiful and rare piece of nonsense is finished, would you like to tell them to go on back and look again for some nice nuggets they might have missed, for, peradventure, once they recognize more nuggets they might decide to follow you?

• What are all your writings? What do they say?

• Where are all the lavender stuffed shirts?

• Dictator of the fashionable chiffons

Demens judicio vulgi,

Sanus fortasse tuo

PROLOGUE

This is for philosophy students, serious, beautiful, and rare students of philosophy, a book for somebody not just anybody, but just between you and me nobody will suit me fine because if you’re a nobody in philosophy you know who you are, nice to meet you, I’m a nobody in philosophy and I get the perversest kick out of that: I’m a nobody in philosophy who has a philosophy, which is severely, tactilely better than being a somebody in philosophy and having no philosophy, no ideas of your own, oh, you may have ideas, but what are the ideas about, what do they mean, do, produce, and for how long, all of them, every last one, to find this out you must turn to the new philosophy of Loren Berengere—by the way, as I said before, there are three rules for the practice of philosophy but no one has ever found out what they are, what am I doing out here? I want two things, to write philosophy in a manner that will de-mummify the cadaverous affair and to enunciate the elements of the new metaphysics, run your eye over my heights and across my abysses only in the early morning, sun smashing in through high scriptorium windows, by noon you will not be able to cherish my complexity, my lapidary locutions won’t come across quite as precise, profound, eloquent—I am always eloquent and I’m getting eloquenter, maybe aha! I haven’t found my voice yet? I don’t know. One thing I do know. I haven’t found too many readers yet, soon I will be unable to resist, if this continues and it most likely will, pulling out even more outrageously magic bus stuff on your starving for action poor heads, I’ll put you through it, you beautiful monsters! My snugly hidden mousehole is small but comfy, I look out and see the bizarrest sights so can you blame me for being the strangest, and truth be told, most dangerous (for the traditional integrity of philosophy) aeronaut of them all, your pied-piper vanguardists turn out to be cavedwellers, are you ready for the Wild Blue Yonder?

* * *

From out of your 7 solitudes you will gain new eyes to see the most distant things, is that right? well, I don’t think, in fact, I know you never made it to 7, if we look at the evidence it’s more like 3.5, the things Nietzsche sang about and the things you talk about I have safely and permanently stored away in my stolid oblong portmanteau, after me it’s just not possible to enjoy your Nietzsche the way you used to, it’s the Law of the Wild Blue Yonder! I don’t blame the professors for doting on you in the hope of festooning some brand new exegetical play-pretty, how is learning anything that really is new going to help them get tenure? As for the rest of the spirited dead, I’m an asteroid streaming in for a direct slam, are you ready for me? I have the myopia muddle of the history of philosophy on my conscience, this is more than enough to turn anybody into a spike-and-spire-strewn asteroid hungry for objects, for every gaily-colored and high-flight balloon I have a heftyish elongated pin, for every constipated T. S. Eliot-looking teaching assistant I have a longish paddle, a board of education, I’m always fashioning impromptu on-the-spot medicaments designed to cure the professors of their prolix and pristinely punctilioed parabola of proclivities to take philosophy too seriously—and what a delight it is to hold one of my books and listen, listen to my equanimity, taste my Epicurean spice, and my beef! there’s always more scrumptious beef to go around after all your intellectual bellies are full, dessert? You ask me for dessert? I serve up the tastiest desserts because I’m the sweetest man ever to enter buxom Sophia’s brunette-bestrewn-boudoir, the sad truth is this: most of our kind have been and are bastards, almost anybody who’s made it in this danger-game (which is a lot more dangerous out here, down here, and way up here than you prudishly proper Beau Brummells could ever dream!!) comes across to me as a true-blue-ribbon bastard, but I’m sweet, I tell you, sweet as honey and chocolate, yet at the same time, cheek by jowl as they say, I am the most terrible philosopher ever to have made the chance acquaintance of her purplely bumpyish oval aureoles, her incomparable V-figured face, I’ll let you figure out why, when I begin speaking, in the dark, only in the dark, shafts of the starkest desert moonlight splayed across my vacant floor, Flaubert’s incomparable le mot comes to me like a hungry stray dog begging for a bone, I am le mot, the Word itself!

* * *

Philosophy never did cut itself off from mythological themes although the inception of philosophy is defined as a resolute turning away from myth, the pre-Socratic cosmologies always struck me as hosting significant admixtures of myth, and those who like these auroral philosophers like them for this reason, they intoxicate, and without the mythological elements stubbornly perduring, clinging to thought like barnacles cling to the bottom of an old barge, the golden feet of many adepts, I am afraid, would remain on the ground. Now if you want your feet to remain on the ground and if you forbid others the use of their own wings you must be a touchy and supercilious Analytic philosopher, a janitor in science’s disinfectant-scented polished halls (these halls are lined with tall august portraits of dirty old men whose scrotums have dried up) and I reply that you do not by any stretch know how to bring your if p then q down on the very ground your feet are on, and lo! if you did manage to do that you would throw all your philosophy books, the ones written and not written by you, in the trash. What then? All over England there would be an embarrassing run on dumpsters, then even a garbage man can earn a buck and take unto himself an ample portfolio—my mother told me that’s what her five-year-old son aspired to be someday, a garbage man, and that’s what those who burn for philosophy are, garbage men who handle the things everybody else rejects as improper, out of bounds, terrifyingly unseemly and unfeasible as regards the living of a strong and healthy life. Meanwhile . . .

* * *

They say that philosophers make claims. A claim can either reflect or not reflect how things are, my philosophy, which is the new and in a haunting kind of way the last philosophy, so you’d better hope I’m betting on a loser, right? does nothing but reflect the world, exegesis here is first exegesis because I only reflect, otherwise we have exegesis of exegesis, What? the point of philosophy is to change the world? got any hunches how that happens? Most often philosophers are brilliant yet blind as moles. Look, fellow, the way flows on and on, it does not stop, least of all where some philosopher wants it to. Take A. N. Whitehead as a sterling example, for he is so sterling! our pampered darling in the seminar room rustled up all that stuff in a short while, you know that when you look into those saucily etiolated gravedigger eyes, and just look how placid! philosophers are placid because of the Eureka factor—you see, the men and women who do philosophy and finally find their own philosophy don’t share prizes and I don’t think they should have to, but it is funny to me, with the notable exception of the professorial rank and file, the way they refuse to share power! But then, philosophers, real ones anyway, are supposed to be funny, funereal, off-the-wall, intractable, greedy. Here’s Whitehead Harvardly searching for some supposititious supernumerary of a cosmology for no other reason than to show himself what he can do (and hatchet-faced Russell). Whole thing’s a kind of trick—like the defense lawyer getting somebody off just to show he can, and I thought philosophy was high up, something noble, a special adventure for the bold, this, this is low. I don’t do anything of the sort, I don’t need to. You do a lot with your Whiteheadean ontology—teaching Whitehead! when you should be teaching me, and since I’m not on the inside I must wait . . . on what? for the rank and file to humble themselves? I hear a white spotted pink backgrounded Triceratops with a purple head goes for a pretty penny at Sothebys . . . The philosophy you are about to hear is more than a fleshing-out of pre-Socratic skeletons, lifeless diagrams, I said, drawn with sticks in the sands of the Aegean, a rather spooky prefiguring of my great discovery, don’t you think so?

* * *

You are about to venture farther out into a more expansive region than any wisdom, truth, and justice envisager ever saw. What-is is the Actual, I say this to equip you for climbing the steep rock faces to come, Yes, I do dispense Epicurean unction along the journeys, wine, bottles of Perrier, What-is-not I call the Possible, I will reintroduce you to What-is-not as a basic entity, the Actual (think of Heidegger’s Being) is Earth, which is the matriarchal ideal producing Earth values, these values strive for unification of all elements into one Whole, which is ½ of the Whole never articulated before me, I call the Whole of unified elements the Sphere, which is the matriarchal ideal fully realized. Am I part of this Sphere? Not a question until you learn to tell Time (I answer briefly and politely). What-is-not is the Possible, I do not mean possibility in philosophy of existence, possibility is actuality, it pertains to actual experience, which means finitude, whereas the Possible’s possibles can only be obliquely related to experience in the real world. The Possible strives to separate the unified elements by way of possibles working obliquely to institute divisions between all elements, distances, which are instantiations of the archetypal distance separating Earth from Sky, which is the patriarchal cosmogony whose order superseded the original matriarchal condition of the human. If this seems strange I can only reply that it’s supposed to, if you say, You’re going too high, I will say, I can see farther off from up here, and if you say, You’re going too low, I will say, "From down here I get a much bigger idea about what’s going on so I can ask and answer my questions," my formulations are stuffy-free, think you will be able to bear up under my rejection of tricks and pedantry, now where would philosophy be without tricks and pedantry?

* * *

The situation is strange and it’s getting stranger, strange to me, not to my philosophy because I am not my philosophy—which explains why what is happening is happening, but then who can say that I can explain it well enough to get anybody to understand me? Maybe no philosopher has ever been understood, you know what I mean. It’s settled then. Nobody’ll ever understand me—but my philosophy! They’ll understand that! The first thing they’ll understand is, SUPPRESS THIS!! I make old Schopenhauer into a choirboy, you don’t think all this is dark? Look again, which only the very few will do and that’s enough, I foretell the collapse not merely of ideologies, I scream disaster into being! I am the most dangerous philosopher who ever was, I am the disastermonger himself! Disaster for whole eras, civilizations! What you have worked so hard to call good is not at all good when run through my cycles and everything must turn up inside This! You really can sweep me under the rug—till there’s no more rug there, that one order is in the act of being worn down as the opposite order grows—in power! power! Who has understood power before me? I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking that my newsreels of the future better not be true, well, they’re happening now. My philosophy explains everything to everything. Once and for all we’ve reached a philosophy that explains everything and can’t itself be explained—other than it is Becoming’s map of Becoming’s journeyings, not through Time, Becoming is Time or Infinity ensuring that nothing ever remains the same, the time will arrive when your dialectic ends in reconciliation of opposites, which is the Sphere, the realization of the matriarchal ideal in Time, and then nothing but stasis will reign? Not if Becoming is strife of these opposites, the Sphere is the Actual, which the Possible will break up in another cosmogony because What-is is at war with What-is-not and What-is-not is at war with What-is producing the dispensations or axiocosms of Time, which are cyclic, in total contrast with the way we experience finite time, which, although it is experienced as a temporal flow forward, turns out to be really a moving composite (think of degrees of each constituent as in Anaximenes and see the last two essays in the Appendix in this volume) of the valuations of the matriarchal and patriarchal ideals, which are the Actual and the Possible, What-is and What-is-not, as I explain with the focus on where finite time’s pasts go and what they do after, sometimes long after, they get there . . .

PART ONE

— 1 —

Much learning does not teach thought, a great pre-Socratic metaphysician said, but even the finest minds have not taught thought’s meaning, although they will reply that this meaning is always revealed in the marvelous anemones they construct, No, the ultimate meaning of thought is deciphered in the hitherto undisclosed movements of these fable-like thought-worlds according to the hidden ordering of these worlds, along with the cognate worlds pure art creates, by Time, and I call the discrete and alternating discharges of Time the process of Infinity, the conflict of the opposed forces I call teloi manifesting itself in human praxical space as this history and all histories I think of as the axiocosms themselves!

— 2 —

All events, past, present, future, are glittering displays of these antithetical ideals as expressions of the conflict of these ideals, so I say that much learning teaches neither thought nor the meaning of thinking, else it would have taught Nietzsche, Heidegger, Marx, Hegel, and Wittgenstein. Time is the ordering of worlds by its own unfolding, those created and yet to be, but Heidegger makes his Being the animating ground of everything that is, and turns it into an agent that sends events to mankind!

— 3 —

Every metaphysic, every creation of thought, must lead somewhere, even if this somewhere is at odds with the plain intentions of the creators, as you shall see . . . Our question is, simply, Have these somewheres been comprehended in the sense of the consequences of the thoughts? And, of course, I do not view consequences as the American pragmatists, whose entire philosophy is nothing other than an apology for industrial capitalism and a kind of American horse sense that never rises above the simplest praxis. Peirce, James, and Holmes could not see that even dreams and fables have consequences.

— 4 —

I begin with the question of non-being or Nothing. Is Nothing actual? Yes, it, as Heidegger holds, the Nothing, belongs to Being both as Being’s limit and possibility. If, moreover, possibilities are actual and connect with actual Being and human being as actual existent, and if possibility and Aristotle’s potential are expressions of actual Being and human being as actual being in the world, then the Nothing as belonging to the Actual cannot be an appendage of any other possible limit of Being; on the contrary, no other possible limit of Being exists according to Heidegger, so these things are cognate with actuality manifest as actual beings and Being standing out as actual Being. In other words, Being, beings, Nothing situate themselves within or alongside as cognate with the actual world of space and time, Life, in Nietzsche’s idiom, philosophy’s question is the if, if this is not all there is?

— 5 —

Could there exist some other limit of Being existing not as Being or beings exist, beyond life, beyond the Actual, Being is actuality is the Actual? If non-being is Being’s possibility as actual, meaning that Being is Being precisely because it stands forth and resists falling back into non-being, as Heidegger avers, then it is easy to imagine Nothing as Being’s matrix, that the emergence of Being is a triumph over Nothing! an overcoming of the Nothing! this Nothing being the extremest possibility of Being, very well, could it be that this mysterious other limit arose out of the Actual, and I mean, of course, out of Being itself, in like manner? Then this surprise element, as it did not arise out of non-being