I talked to an existentialist today,
He sold me a cup of coffee, and he could see the avid discontentment stream of the curves and creases of my face. My damn face always shows the way I am feeling. He told me life isn’t so bleak. Then he gave me a book, “Existentialism and the Human Emotion.”
Essence proceeds existence
I can’t deny this statement.
“Man is nothing else but what he makes of himself. What that means is this: that man realizes that he is not only the person he chooses to be, but also a law-maker who is, at the same time, choosing mankind as well as himself, and cannot escape the feeling of his own total and deep responsibility.”
There is no such thing as God.
I can’t deny this statement. I can’t prove this statement.
I have to say, I don’t know anymore, and I am about ready to give up my search and accept that my life is has no pre-ordained purpose.
Because if man is who he makes himself to be, that is implying we as men have free-will.
Therefore, I am basing this assumption on the a priori that:
I, as man, singular living breathing, and secular entity have power of my own existence.
I have to deny this statement.
We don’t have free-will.
We actually don’t have control over anything.
In fact, it is because we have believed that we can control everything that we have become wretched drunks lusting over our own power. And this in turn, has made us dreadfully, dreadfully powerless.
I think I’ve gone mad and paranoid
Peace of mind is a hoax, a comical farce when you begin to see that God really is dead and without him we mean nothing
Because if I could make anything of life
If I had it my way
If I was in control of my own destiny
I would sit in the garden and watch the birds sing and chase one another
I would lay with the caterpillars, dragon flies and bees
I would dance with the butterflies
And I would stand infinitely still in time and within that stillness I might find the heart to love
Because there is nothing like the infinite timelessness of nature’s company
And I would say, my garden is my greatest friend
When you sit in a garden
Day in and day out and speak to the trees
You begin to see what is actually living
Everything even the wind has its own pulse
And everything even the ant in your chicken salad has a life
Have I gone mad? Am I projecting?
Everything in the garden is just as much a part of you as you are to it
That is peace-of-mind
We do have human nature
Equilibrium belongs to the understanding that our entire survival begins and ends with the very thing that is keeping us alive
And we don’t notice the baby bird who has fallen from the tree
That was made from the table upon which we lay our meal
Which is being scooped up and placed into our whole disease ridden mouth’s
And we unconsciously chew
The nutrients that where provided by the grass upon which the livestock ate
Who were then taken and killed for the same purposes the baby bird had to die
To feed our gapping, gnawing disgusting hunger
Don’t worry, you’ll get a toy with that purchase
The land lord came today and locked my doors and mowed down the garden
Nothing is free not even our will
I feel stripped
You should see the garden
She is screaming
And we pretend not to hear
I think I’ve gone mad
But what you don’t understand is that we’re all connected
And we don’t care to know how the blue bird really died
Because we owe our entire existence to ourselves
And we have built our entire humanity off this very notion that is slowly killing us and the planet
So, I think I have given up believing in a purpose
Because to fulfill a purpose within this reality, I must give power to the things which only end up destroying us
I talked to an existentialist today,