2006/06/16

achthaeon?

To follow up. Why is it that spiritual belief, even addressing the deity comes upon me at the most unusual moments? I am an atheist, for chrissakes. I must be Romantic in more senses than I had suspected, have so far suspected, for in this I agree with fizhburn, that there is no fucking reason to believe in the actuality of the supernatural. But why, last night, as I held convo with a magician and slight-of-hand man, and he let me taste his wares, did I suddenly feel like a village idiot, completely dumbstruck by that fascination which, creeping up behind me, leaps into my skull and wrests my consciousness from me, like a posession, and turns my attention to the very impossibility of the mundane world and its utter preposterous-ness? (Ultimum absurdum.) F doesn't particularly like these sorts of questions, rather questions like the ones posed above... they strike his prejudices as too French or, at best, too Flemish. I am not so encumbered and, finding myself in a flowery mode of expression, have taken up the task. But to you, gentle Reader, I merely pose the questions as a hypothetical. To rephrase. Our world, ordinary and obvious though the blockhead may take it to be is, in every detail, a complete improbability. Its motions, which we strive to make orderly with Science and Reason, are in reality beyond the ken of comprehension by such puny brains as ours. Simply put, there is no way to understand fully even our lonely island of blue in the boiling vacuum sea, let alone the whole of what a parson might call Creation. Why are not we all, we who duck our heads and dare not look to long on a flower (who actually stops to smell a rose?), who push forward with our self-made meanings, not instead all dead, parched for want of drink, or drowned in forgetting to lift our heads from the stream, simply, like the Buddha, Contemplating? How do we stop, once we begin? Would we, should we want to? Perhaps now I can identify the single thread that ties F and Socrates, and those who came before and between and will come after. But why, oh why, does this happen in this, the most starstuck of months, to me?

1 Comments:

Blogger Sneaky Sis said...

P.S. happy Bloomsday, belated :D

18/6/06 13:54  

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