“We can be as honest as we are ignorant. If we are, when asked what is beyond the horizon of the known, we must say that we do not know.”
– Robert G. Ingersoll
To some, the commonest interpretation of Agnosticism places it somewhere between Atheism and various types of Theism, of which Judaeo-Christian sects, again, comprise the primary cognitive focus. But it is this very misinterpretation within the traditional lexicon which corrupts the original and intended meaning to merely represent a weaker branch of Atheism.
Dawn awakes, but nods until draped upon silvery dregs of fortune and will. So new and calm, too tired or careless to examine the tumult or try repentance or rest, acquiescing ultimately to wroth and disdain.
And it shivers; tied upon a backplane, shunned by not solitude or enmity, but of contemplation and ease. These things that think and consider, aware of nothing but alacrity and fate, or driven destiny, fail to learn or lose earned wisdom by crashing upon reality; wailing into the rift of oblivious ease and treacherous banality, corrupting innocence in favor of some measure of nebulous, untrustworthy success.
Once upon a time, Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears was my favorite song. Mostly because of a few specific phrases it contains:
Welcome to your life
Theres no turning back
Even while we sleep
We will find you
Acting on your best behaviour
It’s no great secret I spent a large fraction of my childhood in the 1980s, but much of that I only remember in a kind of broken haze.
It’s interesting what happens when perspective is adjusted. I see conflict now as pointless, anger as a loss of self, a weakness of infinite depth. But Why? A push was all I really needed, maybe even for years. Scientifically, I know the brain is nearly endlessly malleable, and barring significant cases of genuine chemical or physiological distress, it can be guided to fit a specific end. In this case, I’ve long considered myself helpless to disrupt the cycles of anger that have plagued me since some of my earliest memories.
It’s a beautiful Sunday night in Illinois, and Jen and I have just enjoyed a wonderful pot roast, complete with some gravy I whipped up from the resulting stock. A nice night to relax with some hot chocolate under a warm fleece blanket with a fluffy kitty curled up my lap.. It’s a good time to reflect, recuperating after two and a half hours of exercising yesterday. A time to finally write up part of the outline I wrote while riding home from work one evening.
