We are humans. Perfectly alone in the universe, or so we must be compelled to believe until a discovery is made. Possessing morality and the knowledge of right and wrong. We are clearly separated from the lower species - from all other biological life that exists. This difference understandly fosters in us the idea, which turns into a belief, which translates into a matter of conviction that we are a special set, the final product, the masterpiece of a divine creator. We couple this firm understanding, with our innate morality and higher intelligence and submit that a grand plan is in store for us. That we are at the center of a cosmic arrangement. And so we invent the creator, a god, many gods in fact. We write down writs and call them divine and sacred, holy in fact. Send them down generations, husbanding the idea of and belief in, a god, in the divine. We created god. We are humans. Too afraid to be alone. We seemingly need something to gravel in front of, to perform all the gestures of the slave in the presence of. To call ourselves filthy sinners, unworthy children. Too afraid of being alone in a universe that does not even know we exist. A universe in which we inhabit an insignificant speck. Too afraid that life is only lived once, and can end at any moment. Turns out our fears have convinced us we need supervision, we need a watchful protector, we need a guardian, we need a provider, we need a father. We need to know that out there, and around us, is a presence that watches over us. We created god. We, humans, too afraid to be alone, too afraid to share the fate of the vast majority of living species - a fate of death, annihilation and extinction. You see, an exception has to be made in our case. After all, we are special.
June 2011
Her grace most proper and prim
And onwards the reverie goes
As in my heart a longing love grows.” —
And still I dream he’ll come to me
That we will live the years together
But there are dreams that can not be
And there are storms we can not weather.
I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I’m living
So diffferent now from what it seems
Now life has killed the dream I dream.
I Dreamed a Dream
For me, it is the most moving segment of the great and memorable song from Les Miserables.
I Dreamed a Dream
King of Pride Rock/Circle of Life (Reprise)
The Stranger, Albert Camus
When reading novels, unless the reader is entirely familiar with the author’s beliefs in politics and philosophy, ascribing ideas expressed by characters to a writer can be an act of folly. It is for this reason that I will not assign the above passage to Camus’ philosophy, but will only say that the sentiment expressed in it is one I disagree with, but not entirely.
I do believe it matters how and when we die. Therefore, in the short term, the passage’s idea is one I am not in agreement with, but ultimately, it is indeed correct. In other words, through a micro lense, it is one I am opposed to, but via a macro lense, I cannot help but agree. For instance, if I was to meet my end in the very short run and had a fore-warning of such, I would be gripped by a feeling of deep despair, desolation and anguish. Perhaps, my youth is the culprit in this regard, but I do feel as though I have much to live for. A far later appointment with the eternal blackness would therefore be preferred. However, after the passing of 10,000 years, what difference would it all have made? The gap between now and much later would be miniscule in comaparison and indeed, quite negligible.
However, for each of us, reality and truth are entirely dependent on our minds. At the end of it all, what matters is what we individually feel and experience. That’s why I have for a while entertained the idea of eternity. I am arguing a materialist eternity and not a spiritual one. By this I mean, life, the universe and our comprehension of everything exists only as long as we do. Now of course, we can glimpse into the past, so we do understand that existence and history do precede us, but the future is ever elusive, and in that sense, it dies with us. Our individual universe collapses the moment we do. This is what I mean by a materialist eternity.
Shadowland
Ave Maria
My Name Is Lincoln
