To confirm this fact, simply look up the Webster’s dictionary definition of each or a little not-so-well-known history. Soon enough, what’s revealed is that by this time, I’ve lived a long and quite public life. That a fellow surviving such adventures might occasionally want the curtain pulled should be no surprise.
What ought to shock, is interest in prolonging said travail.
Yet even now, having lived this life so long, a man discovers want for more of it!
Or perhaps, and more likely in fact, the veil of ignorance is lifted last for those gifted with a fool’s nature. In either case, a man’s none the wiser and better off to appreciate the news for what it’s worth.
For there are secrets not only there, but many stories yet to be discovered.
On that basis alone, for the writer, a misery is worth its continuance.
Those of certain experience know well of what I speak. For the rest, warnings are plentiful regarding the dangers of venturing down an uncharted path. To any pursuing such knowledge, however, they must accept the reticent sharing of caring forebears most as desire for these appreciations to be their own, un-poisoned by inevitable cynicism.
Rather than a result of fearful indecision, understood only by those old enough to know and forced to live with it. For that which we accept as the arrow of time itself demands an inviable fact must ever remain; the more one knows, the more one must appreciate how little it is possible to understand.
As result, the experts upon whom the world of every age depends multiply with the requisite exponential scale of the population, rendering factual appreciation of the simplest of daily experiences more insensible as time passes. For example, consider no less than the conundrum of early 21st century society, wherein the planet literally drowns in terabytes of so-called ‘data’, but remains functionally illiterate to the assorted realities of modern life itself.
Without a ‘guy’, a video or a search engine to answer questions, as the years pass the functional distance between life elemental and the individual does also increase on a seeming exponential basis. It must also be noted as fact however, that whatever existential discomfort such thought might expose pales in comparison to its recompense upon the daily temporal experience of an individual.
Welcome to the party ~ did anyone mention we’re soaking in it?
However, at this point I must digress, as by now it’s far too late to close that particular door, for either reader or writer. It’s also not why you’re here, and we both know that. Welcome to you and here’s hoping it’s worth your effort.
As the writer, I’ve also searched for an elusive something, far longer now than reason might defend according to the calendar. Like most everyone else, at one time or another I’ve decided I’d found whatever it was for which I believed I’d searched. Again, like those with a taste for the facts, only time would eventually reveal my mistake.
Most often, when confronted by the consequences of them the response here has not been gracious.
To a man’s great good fortune, it turns out there’s no one of any consequence keeping score aside from the fellow living within an individual’s mind. Despite assurances from the latest ‘secure’ technologies and the relentless mining of ‘private’ personal information by social media, it’s also objectively clear utopia won’t be found by subjectively responding to society’s ills with more of it.
Of course, you’re likely wise to those facts or why would you still be here?
Much like myself, you made it here seeking an answer. To what or how you arrived makes no difference. By now, the search is either something of which you’re oblivious or serve as slave to obsession, though in many cases it’s an often-frustrating mix of both.
If we share nothing else, this writer bets a desire to be rid of it spars with the love for its blessing within you, perhaps daily. Of certain value, you must also beware bets placed here are most often upon the writer than a favorite. Let there be no doubt, that’s result of an ignorant man’s bliss.
For quoted odds rely upon the irrefutable science of mathematics for their predictions, making betting against them the futile act of a senseless gambler. Those who would do so repeatedly, by and for whatever excuse or explanation, can therefore make no objective claim to either wisdom or sanity.
Let alone coach you with claims of existential insight or profound enlightenment.
For the answer accepted here is as horribly clear as that we most certainly dread. The more you know, the less you can. Like the speed at which moves light, beyond that is only darkness.
Unfortunately, the only experience known to our kind that does not end, is change. Thus, change itself is the experience feared most. Leaving those such as you and me here, relentlessly seeking an alternative to a hopelessly foregone conclusion despite claiming an existential acceptance for a temporal plane of existence.
My answer to this miserable but fact-bound circumstance was, is and ever shall be revealed only in my writing. To put it succinctly, if not written by my own hand, it’s not a fact of either how I lived nor what I thought, believed or desired to communicate, and must be disregarded. The analog to the speed at which light moves here, is beyond that which I have written is only bullshit.
For the writer worked as this man lived, by a code of his own design.
Science now teaches us a black hole of uncertain but immense dimension lies at the centre of our universe, much like a distant analog to the fearful blackness underlying the concept of mortality for our kind. In each case, individual awareness of the facts makes little subjective difference to the experience of either.
Whether good fortune or bad, that also seems a reliable feature of temporal reality.
To those wanting more, my latest novel ‘The Recalcitrant P.I.’ is now available most everywhere on Amazon.
Thanks for being here and thanks for sharing.
- TFPFebruary 3, 2019