Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Where meaning may not.

Every time it turned, it sent a flurry of kaleidoscopic hues dancing across the ceiling. I sat there for hours playing with it, like a little boy lain in the grass trying to conjure images out of clouds. In Technicolor and fast-forward.

Scientists have all but proven that much of faith was in infancy, is the result of altered states of consciousness. Ultra-aware (or unaware) interpretations of shadows and plays of light. The unfettering of information contained in our many strands of junk DNA. Angels, Aliens, Apocalypses and Apostles. Through meditation, mind bending substances, masochistic rituals of self deprivation and exhaustion, the elders of our sapien brood, and in turn we, seek to find meaning in the world around us by looking through a crystal that distorts angles, softens corners and allows us to hope that there is more.

What if, and humor me here, there isn’t? Fortunately, this is not a discussion, so the argument is unilateral.

Would the inevitability of a final nothingness be too horrible to contemplate? Is the promise of an afterhere to the worthy that makes humanity human? Why would anyone want to own a Chihuahua?

In my humble (just kidding) opinion, there is nothing wrong with the concept of a void in the post mortem part of life (I know it’s an oxymoron you moron). The logical acceptance of the absence of The One would lead people to strip off their pretensions of piousness, be free to experiment with life, throw fear of brimstone induced caution to the wind and, perhaps, heaven forbid, be good to one another because it is the right thing to do. Not because cloud man said it was.

Pictured here is the book ‘God is not great’ by Christopher Hitchens. Buy it (this is not a plug).

May your universe never collapse into itself.

Malice.

P.S. A big “I love you” to K, who will absolutely hate this one.