Man is a work of art

I do believe that there was once a time when more thinkers inhabited the world, or at least, they were more readily apparent. Efforts of the intelligent and the humane—endeavors to make life for all more comfortable and leisurely, and filled with ideas, opinions, and open stimulation. In the developed world, the advent of media technology and ideas combined with the lack of conflict in the average person’s life results in a kind of intellectual ennui.

All ideas are equally valid and deserve a say; however, people have no guidance nor are heavily encouraged to develop their own comprehension of value. Thus, there is no reverence, nor understanding—simply fanaticism or selfishness. Yet that seems quite comfortable enough for most.

Although to what extent does one allow the natural flux of thought or lack thereof? Certainly limiting truth to a select few who choose to understand the importance of thought and civilization thoroughly would result in more progress, while the rest barred from allthru access—simply would have an appreciation or an awe for truth—is perhaps good enough? I suppose there is little one could do humanely, but the thought of “digging for truth” is yet another way to erect walls to greater heights, leaving the fanaticism and the selfishness all the more apparent outside. But I am glad there remain still those who will speak out without being heard, because they value a a sense of truth that is uniquely defined and befitted to one’s values.

Man is a work of art. His abilities are infinite; his design and acuity of movement are so fitted to his purpose—splendid and admirable. But how often does he mean to understand the depths of his soul? Nonetheless, does he still have one? Does he want to seek the truth?

Though what is Truth but a dream between right and wrong, and an imagined reality beyond good and evil? It may be too complicated, immeasurable, or simply disillusioning to preoccupy over—that his goals are unattainable, that his absolutes are farcical, that he can never have Truth. Is it the Truth that we covet, or the progression towards it? Though is that promising in any way…and is it enough?

It is the price we pay for being all too human.

There are those who seek truth and virtue as a reward, a recompense for the good they tire, and a place to surrogate the suffering that we endure. Though virtue, as well, is a being beyond discernment. It is part of the ring inside of us that strives and turns to reach itself again. It is an ongoing and unending process, a progression with an effect that lends meaning to the effort.

We must love our virtue as a mother her child. For a mother does not love her child with fetters, limiting it entirely with her own sense of existence, nor does she see to make sense of a requited end. A mother loves her child unconditionally and lets the child grow into its own being. Virtue is a being.

There also exists an ambiguity when grounds for virtue are established, as people have laid reward and punishment into the foundation of all things. With this, we restrict our understanding simply to being engrossed by artificial grounds and building upon rotten foundation. Decomposition will not hold; all else upon it will not be able to stand on its own, and things will fall apart.

Perhaps if we would renounce our annihilation and do everything in our power to love our magnificent soul, is only then can we learn to live in a world of petty spirits and little minds. This is a power of an unconscious force that can be found in all individuals and channeled towards different ends. It is a deep, pre-rational force, begging to be harnessed and transformed into something beautiful.

We are passing through. Our words and our thoughts can be exchanged, or they solemnly can be withheld. But in that moment of intersection, is there anything I can do to make our meeting more than just one of pending farewell? I take heart in the future, but I am always bracing for goodbyes.