As it is true that we make ourselves, we also must unmake ourselves. Our lives ultimately do us in, closing around us until we just can't live them. To the extent that we are compelled to "put ourselves together," such is done in the awareness that it is all a farce. If we are of this mind, we are unable to see "the point of it all," including the point of our own existence. I am one who has fervently believed so many things that explained life and "the point of my own life." I believed I "knew" so many things about Truth and Reality. And I was certain. It all "made sense" and was "quite logical" to believe what I believed. It was certainly easier than not believing, than not have any particular "point" to my existence. Belief and hope are a very weak crutch. And without them I found myself in despair. When one is young and healthy such despair can be quite fashionable; one can praise the "darkness" and romantically feel the pain of such lostness. But as one fades to oneself and loses any momentum, which is actually faith in the "proper turning out of things," there is nothing to hold onto any longer. And I don't believe that this nothingness is any kind of a passing state; one does not "get better" in life. Living loses any inherent fascination for us; we bide our time.
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