Much time has passed and I have not had the words and still don't. But words do come to pass at times. We can write only for ourselves; no one else can even listen, much less comprehend. We can barely comprehend ourselves, yet our voices, for some of us, are compelled to come forth, if simply as cryings in the wilderness.
For it is a wilderness and we are wild, though trying to create a semblance of sanity, of normalcy. Children actually come to believe that their parents are sane, though, for many, they realize otherwise in due time; usually too late, usually after they themselves have been tainted and infected by their parent so much that they become them.
We humans are meaning-seekers, never realizing that there is no inherent meaning to anything other than that we have given to things. The only saving grace, as it were, that we have is mercy. If there were such a thing as God, as anything that knew anything, as anything that could "make it better," oh, I would pray that the suffering people might receive a reprieve, a moment of joy rather than sorrow and pain. I would pray in an instant. But I am not such a believer. I would rather suffer the sorrow than pretend, than deceive myself. I have no choice but to know that I am not separate from these other human beings, for I feel them, and know them in this respect. I cannot save them, but I can feel them--and this is not an easy thing nor a preferable thing. I would rather not feel them at all, and find some way to escape this, but, in truth, there is no escape. And there is no escape from oneself in one's own life. We must live with it. I would say "live with it as it is," but then, how is it? What I think and believe and feel is not "how it is" but, rather, how I see it. "It" has no meaning other than my reaction, my interpretation, my experience.
This "seeing" is closer than other ways of seeing. Removing "meaning" does not remove color and movement, thought and feeling. Seeing as I do is difficult but also merciful in the sense that it probably hides or covers up less, and there is less denial of reality. This is just what I prefer, that's all. Many prefer "God" and even a "loving God," which is fine as long as it can last, which may be a lifetime. Is it better to feel the heartache for those who suffer, the weltschmertz, the "world pain"? It's not better, no, but it's there, it's here. Human beings suffer. Their lives are most difficult. I feel that one must accept this as one's own, that there can be no avoidance of being human. Gibran spoke of those who "cry all of their tears and laugh all of their laughter" and noted that it is the same well from which joy and sorrow are drawn. This makes life no easier to accept, and it is not to be understood, since there is no "understanding of life"; there is only seeing it as it is, and knowing that it can never be seen "as it is" because it is no particular way whatsoever. My only choice is to somehow find kindness and to even be of good cheer--even in the midst of profound anger and sorrow and pain. Life is hard but life is also good. We may come to realize that this is the only choice we have in our lives.
For it is a wilderness and we are wild, though trying to create a semblance of sanity, of normalcy. Children actually come to believe that their parents are sane, though, for many, they realize otherwise in due time; usually too late, usually after they themselves have been tainted and infected by their parent so much that they become them.
We humans are meaning-seekers, never realizing that there is no inherent meaning to anything other than that we have given to things. The only saving grace, as it were, that we have is mercy. If there were such a thing as God, as anything that knew anything, as anything that could "make it better," oh, I would pray that the suffering people might receive a reprieve, a moment of joy rather than sorrow and pain. I would pray in an instant. But I am not such a believer. I would rather suffer the sorrow than pretend, than deceive myself. I have no choice but to know that I am not separate from these other human beings, for I feel them, and know them in this respect. I cannot save them, but I can feel them--and this is not an easy thing nor a preferable thing. I would rather not feel them at all, and find some way to escape this, but, in truth, there is no escape. And there is no escape from oneself in one's own life. We must live with it. I would say "live with it as it is," but then, how is it? What I think and believe and feel is not "how it is" but, rather, how I see it. "It" has no meaning other than my reaction, my interpretation, my experience.
This "seeing" is closer than other ways of seeing. Removing "meaning" does not remove color and movement, thought and feeling. Seeing as I do is difficult but also merciful in the sense that it probably hides or covers up less, and there is less denial of reality. This is just what I prefer, that's all. Many prefer "God" and even a "loving God," which is fine as long as it can last, which may be a lifetime. Is it better to feel the heartache for those who suffer, the weltschmertz, the "world pain"? It's not better, no, but it's there, it's here. Human beings suffer. Their lives are most difficult. I feel that one must accept this as one's own, that there can be no avoidance of being human. Gibran spoke of those who "cry all of their tears and laugh all of their laughter" and noted that it is the same well from which joy and sorrow are drawn. This makes life no easier to accept, and it is not to be understood, since there is no "understanding of life"; there is only seeing it as it is, and knowing that it can never be seen "as it is" because it is no particular way whatsoever. My only choice is to somehow find kindness and to even be of good cheer--even in the midst of profound anger and sorrow and pain. Life is hard but life is also good. We may come to realize that this is the only choice we have in our lives.
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