There’s a distinction that’s being elided here; that between mind and will. Only with the Cartesian viewpoint do they become conflated.
How then would you (or Greer) interpret Peter Carroll’s statement:
(Liber Null, p.14)
Or in general the idea that one must often enter “non-ordinary” states of consciousness to participate more fully in magic? That ritual has a key transformative role?
Is it at least possible to see will as something that manifests not through “mind” but through receptivity – as something that appropriates, something that calls one to bring something forth? Resoluteness is heeding the call and bearing full responsibility for the results. It is accepting one’s place as a caretaker and cultivator of what one has been given.
What one is to bring forth, through force of will – why wouldn’t that thing be indeed highly specific? Is this degree of specificity even possible in mental representations that categorize, reduce, generalize, flatten? Creation is nothing if not intensely specific – no two snowflakes, no two leaves on a tree are exactly the same. Each snowflake, each leaf, each painting, each composition overflows every possible thought that could think it. Their essence, perhaps lies in this overflowing. Indeed, if art could simply be “thought”, as a pure exercise of mind, there would be no reason to make or to view artworks.
Resoluteness is not the absence of intent or care, merely a correction in its temporal structure. To speak of resoluteness as opposed to intent is an acknowledgement that true will arrives from the future, not the past. It is perhaps the most primordial phenomenon of the future in its lived experience. Whether creating a painting or simply exiting a room, it is the future that draws us out of ourselves (Greer’s “not you”) and that makes us act to close the gap. The initial spark of commitment or resoluteness is not merely to throw caution to the wind; it involves also a full understanding of what may transpire and a willingness, whatever the consequences, to accept responsibility.
Resoluteness is a mode of care in its deepest sense. But this care is not something we possess, not something that we wield at our pleasure; rather, care possesses us. Care appropriates us while at the same time keeping us honest. It is what calls us to account and what reveals our choices as anything but arbitrary.
Hyginus’s fable illustrates this so beautifully:
“she would keep her creation as long as it lived.” And then the final judgment being rendered by Time… by temporality in its manifest experience.
Cage’s abdication of mind (“nothing to say”) is the very opposite of “not saying” or the abdication of care. He is saying, and in the end does say something so irreducibly specific, and so overflowing of any concept that it is difficult even to speak of it. Cage abdicates mind in the interest of will; he abdicates mind in order to open himself more fully to care.