Often, joyful moments are only truly appreciated in retrospect. Perhaps, as the Romantics believed, it’s necessary to fully soak up experience before gleaning true meaning for the purposes of recording, recollecting, redistributing. The clock runs without permission; life is as full as one is open to allow – to be taken and take on, rather than overtaken by its possibilities
At no point did her attention wane as she selflessly handed each person a sandwich. Her attention transubstantiated a hand-out into a gift. Each gift received turned the written law of love into living law. A dove descended and dwelled among them in this holy economy which transacts in nothing and yet in everything.
Our theology has become gnostology, and there were bound to be heretics. Information abounding, heretics pick up an information thread but missteps slightly, putting the missed into misinformation. Harboring a slight doubt in a well-established trusted chain sends the heretic adrift encouraged by algorithms trained and feeding on our gnoseological addition. How does one rehabilitate a world where gnosis denies being?
Influence stretches like a rubber band, slowly roping in others. Some drift until found, then flouting with the group’s whims as the elastic stretches and tightens. Others push and pull at its boundaries. A few forget the band’s plasticity altogether and declare its bounds Truth. For them, the rubber band’s freedom becomes a noose.
So old it might as well have been before the biblical flood. What is the watershed which shapes humanity, but our navel-gazing? Always surprised about what we find inside and outside our species, everything must be novel, but what have we gained? As the Afrikaans poet N.P. van Wyk Louw wrote, “the fault is thousandfold, the truth is ancient and old.”
We scroll ourselves into death. With this rosary we repeat the eternal return of information. News and more news, and so little wisdom. Time bends into a blur of this against that, we against them. Here we miss a neighbor suffering. Our fixation translates into so many missed opportunities to love.
Misunderstood! I blame the Stoics who made it a technical term. As an Ancient Greek verb, it meant “worthy of” rather than our use now as “foundational.” Axiomatic means speaking well rather than speaking the truth. After all, if one claims an axiomatic truth, one can just choose any truth wants without considering the good of it.
Only those who fly over the world never missteps, so they never learn. A faux pas breaks something, and this breaking reveals a social concern, a norm, a power structure. It shows the line which one needs to toe. Breaking something is only bad when you don’t learn something from it.
In my esurient selfishness, I forgot you, and so forgot myself. The late-night loneliness became a permanent fixture, the dull background I now hide in this husk. When the vapor clears, what is left is our nakedness. As if in a dream, we are together again in my morning, and thankfulness floods my being here.
The gods unleash their images from afar, and we bow to their views. Everyone an expert with a five-minute satirical jab at another complicated issue. Self-satisfied, we nod our heads in agreement. “They are stupid,” we degree and beat them with our simulacrum into submission. And the tele-gods smile.