Alone in the cold blackness and silence of the void

All human endeavor is destructive, even building is preceded by destruction, the gouging of earth, the tearing of tree and root limb from limb, the crushing of stone, the mixing of cement and turning it into concrete, even sex is a violent and destructive act: Like two celestial bodies they hurtle towards one another at great speed, clumsily, uncontrollably, drawn by the mutual gravitational attraction they exert on one another, then they crash into one another. We live to destroy whatever we touch and whatever we interact with, or else we corrupt it, twist it, deform it and then we complain about it. We are parasites, destroyers of beauty.

People are fixated on the success of failure, determining that lies and deceit and trickery and fooling the innocent, obedient and hard working are virtuous skills to be valued and that a fat bank balance is the only measure of a man’s success or failure.

We are all held hostage to the whims of the corrupt and the fearful though we barely know it. Those who are corrupt are corrupt, we can't help that, but we can stop voting for them, but we don’t because we recognize a bit of ourselves in them and we are terrified by that image. And thus, the fearful are the bigger problem, there is no cure for chronic fear and cowardice, those who suffer from it will always cling on to the familiar and what seems secure, they will not follow revolutionaries into the fray. So, the Lebanese, masters of the game or so they would like to think, neither run nor walk towards destiny they stand still and hope and wait for change to happen, be completely taken by surprise by it when it does happen, fight it, reject it, and then run back in to the welcoming warm embrace of their tribal groupings.

People see life and live it as a day to day struggle for survival. While survival is vital to stay alive until we find our true purpose, always struggling to remain alive, just barely, is no life. Our purpose and destiny will be revealed to us no matter how long it may take or how brief the encounter (mine may be to light the way for the others on the ferryboat of Styx), each of us has a purpose and each one has a different purpose, but they all fall under one broad heading, to be artists, to be poets, to be writers and musicians, to be witnesses to the glories of the universe, not only to record this miracle that is creation but to marvel at it, try to explain it, to philosophize about it and to ponder and mediated upon it, otherwise why would nature have endowed us with more brain power than any of us ever end up using. Most people use barely five percent of the potential of their brains and I include some of the greatest minds mankind has ever produced. We are not animals in the field, our purpose is not just to feed and procreate, our purpose is greater, we only need to discover that purpose and in so doing meet our full potential as a species.

Every day I hate my human frailty more and more as I slam against the immovable wall that is my own mind, trying to escape, trying to flee that cursed mind that imprisons us all with our own fears, fear of pain, suffering, loss and death.

"Hence the ways of men part: if you wish to strive for peace of soul and pleasure, then believe; if you wish to be a devotee of truth, then inquire..." from a letter Friederich Nietzsche wrote to his sister

"Semper in excretia sumus solim profundum variat"


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