The Consummate Man

The individual who has mastered the hierarchy of discretion, whose actions are underlain and driven by a love of Ideal so strong it transcends every division of his being, is the consummate man.

His journey is that of a pilgrim, but the devotion he offers is not of a base, scraping kind which demeans him and the object he worships. There is no obsequious bending of the knee as of a slave groveling for some pseudo-offense before his master.

Dignity typifies the service of the consummate man. He offers his best- his honed talents- to a master he has chosen consciously and discriminately. He does not, as the groveling penitent, offer his worst to the judgment of an overlord, hoping his cheap coinage buys mercy and compassion.

The love of the consummate man is for sale, but the currency in which he deals is rare and precious, impossible to forge- his talent brokered for the peace of living the diktats of his conscience. His religion is a value-for-value exchange between his best and the eternally perfect and just.

The soul, in order to properly function, must have uncontested supremacy. Though its makeup rests on the dual-sovereignty of the head and the heart, reason must be subjugated, as must emotion, and confined within its dominion

And nothing is outside its provenance. A piece of mechanical genius is as likely to excite his passions as is a masterpiece by a Renaissance sculptor. It is the ideas that are significant. The form in whey they are encapsulated matters only as a testament to personal achievement. And while this is not something to be dismissed, it is trivial unless it reflects some discretionary application of Ideal.

The object into which the creator pours his love must not deviate from the consummate man’s conception of the same. Just as he could never be satisfied with the labors of his productive capacity unless he knows them to be a result of his talent applied to its greatest extent and refined by his best efforts, so he cannot be drawn to another unless their work or character reflects a similar process. His best and another’s best must be the same, since he can only conceive of good through his own discretionary judgment. In this way, and in this way only, discretionism is egalitarian. But it is still grounded in ego. Just as a politician- ideally- endorses only those candidates with whom he is aligned closely enough that any difference in judgment does not violate his conscience, the consummate man does not approve that which he, in an identical situation, would not produce. He might respect the process by which other honest brokers arrive at different conclusions, as a priest ought to respect the right of conscience of other ecclesiastical personages, but here all common ground ends. He cannot love the conclusion. It is a lower form of discretion than he practices.

But how does the consummate man begin to make such value-judgments? How does he sort through competing ideas and decide which have merit and which are sophistic?

One must examine the makeup of his soul.

The consummate man stands at a crossroads between his head and his heart. Reason- clean, linear paths and absolute laws- this is the language of the head. It clashes with the passionate oratory of the heart, which is as mercurial and turgid as the as the tide, but with far less consistent ebbing and flowing. The two elements make up the dialectic of the soul.

Caught somewhere between reason’s fascistic rule and emotion’s anarchy is the discriminatory process. Its sound judgment depends on man’s ability to act as arbiter, to listen to emotional and rational appeals, find the merits in both arguments and make the soundest decision based on ascertainable facts.

Just as a politician- ideally- endorses only those candidates with whom he is aligned closely enough that any difference in judgment does not violate his conscience, the consummate man does not approve that which he, in an identical situation, would not produce.

The soul, in order to properly function, must have uncontested supremacy. Though its makeup rests on the dual-sovereignty of the head and the heart, reason must be subjugated, as must emotion, and confined within its dominion. The two form the all-important corner stones for the barbican that is the sole defense of the consummate man. Should one be moved, the whole structure comes crumbling down.

For while Ideals are attainable, it is only through the careful and consistent practice of discretion. When emotion comes unhinged or reason rules despotically, the rapacious usurer that is absolutism comes calling to collect its interest and extracts it from the soul of the consummate man in mental anguish.