The Gift of Mortality
Posted: Wed Aug 08, 2018 6:32 pm
Very few men, if any, know what its like to bleed and sweat through one's own hands...to cut down a tree with an axe and watch it crash through the woods. To carve out a cabin by hand, regardless of its depth of beauty of symmetry. To hunt down a deer and shoot it, only to find its vulnerability as it gently dies before you only to push a knife through its heart out of mercy.
Now these things may seem cruel and barbaric to the average person today, but to other's they are strictly an embracement of mortality. In cutting down a tree one cut's down there own weakness in spirit. In building a house one builds up one's own strength and mind. In running a knife through a deer, one embraces one's own vulnerability through the eye's of the deer as one's own.
A sacrifice of blood and sweat is mandated in each passing moment, no matter how simple the moment may be...and from that sacrifice? Meaning. The death of the tree, the formation of a building from that same tree, and the death of the deer all have meaning through the economy of sacrifice long forgotten before our time. This necessity of sacrifice, of meaning, have been deemed cruel and barbaric in an era where we put a blind eye to mortality and instead chose to envelope ourselves in a cocoon of technology meant to protect us from the percievably harsh manner in which we envision the world today...a harshness falsely percieved because of our own weakness.
In denying mortality we crush the human spirits will to live, the will to exist against whatever odds be they small or great. We replaced meaning with distraction, sacrifice with hedonism, and in doing so we have already died. The ugly truth is that our generation has nothing to live for as our souls have become incapacitated in the face of material excess, and the human condition has become reduced, and is being reduced, simply to one of a number which projects itself through time until it is dissolved through further multiplication or division.
We no longer build...no longer destroy...but rather live lives of progressive sterilization in the effort to avoid a simple fact: "I am not God". Our labors of sacrifice have been replaced by machines, and our relationships whether they be one with the self, Divinity, or fellow men and women are mere exhibitions that have lost any merit as one thing becomes the next and our inability to focus on any one thing has become an inability to become anything.
We do not morn the dead, or their sacrifices upon which our lives are built...we do not celebrate life by living life...as we do not know what life really is about. And that is the question, isn't it? "What is life really about?" Trying to encapsulate the answer through a single question does not do it any justice, and even if it where to be written down it would be spit upon by self-righteous hypocrites who do not know the meaning of the words blood, sweat, and tears.
We bleed, yes, by accident when cutting a finger or scratching a knee during a game, but no one knows what it means to work one's hands into a series of bloody blisters in an attempt to build, or even destroy, something of beauty or value.
We cry, yes, when a sports game is lost or something we "desire" does not come within our grasp. But few "people" know the horrific beauty of sacrificing an aspect of the self for another or simply just fucking up in life without trying to blame "x" reason.
In this freedom, a paradox of god-like strength and child-like vulnerability take hold as the darkness of not just the human condition but ignorance and death have encompassed us as prisoners through the bars of time we continually seek to saw through under the guise of efficiency we mold through the lens of technology.
Noone ever taught us how to die, hence none of us have every really lived. To us death has been replaced by the sacrifice to the God's of pleasure, rather than to the One God of Life through which the All owe both respect and Allegiance...if not love and gratitude. We ask these gods, of our own making...our own image embodied through mindless irrational greed, violence and lust to help us to forget who and what we are: mortal. Maybe in reality it should be the other way around, looking at the shear beauty and magnitude of one's hands and the power we see within...a sacrifice of praise should be made to the One Creator from which all meaning proceeds by our free ability to measure under the simple, yet deep, tasks of creation and destruction embodied through the mind, body, and spirit of the human constitution.
Instead of faking invulnerability, is it not more honest to thank God for weakness? One only has to look at life to know the smallest thing, whether the swing of a hammer, kind words from a friend, or the act of forgetting oneself but for a moment sends a ripple through time that reflects for all eternity. A small pebble incapacitates the toughest of soldiers...how much more so the human will against this mechanistic society we false call our "home"? As men and women today we should not ask God for a means on how to be pleasured as our evident misery shows us this in itself is nothingness. Rather we should ask our Father, the Creator and Destroy of Universes: "Show me how to live fully and die fully." For meaning is not found in the trivial pleasures we are taught on what to base our lives around...no...it is found in the mortality of the human condition as it strives under a hope found in hopelessness.
Death holds no power or meaning in the face of sacrifice. The love of a man when he gives a woman a child, the gentle rain drops of the night air giving themselves to a small rose, the act of kindness and brotherly compassion given to he or she who has no hope but death.
In these moments the glory and beauty of life springs forth and death is abolished, holding no power over the body in sickness or the mind and heart in ignorance. We have lost our humanity because we forgot to sacrifice ourselves, over the simplest of people or things and hence we are imprisoned by ourselves. The mechanistic chamber of plastic, silicon and steel has become our tomb...the the continual dripping of the human will ordained by God, must and will erode these very bars...for what is hard yields to what is soft.
We have no meaning, to ourselves and to eachother, and the quest of pleasure and the prideful purpose of power must be the first thing that is chopped down. Our vanity must be refashioned to sacrifice; the identity of "I" must be mercifully put to its death. And yet these words are blasphemy in today's day and age before our handmade gods. Fuck the gods, their time must be put to an end as the era of man, as the image of the one God, must take its rightful place of Divinity.
Now these things may seem cruel and barbaric to the average person today, but to other's they are strictly an embracement of mortality. In cutting down a tree one cut's down there own weakness in spirit. In building a house one builds up one's own strength and mind. In running a knife through a deer, one embraces one's own vulnerability through the eye's of the deer as one's own.
A sacrifice of blood and sweat is mandated in each passing moment, no matter how simple the moment may be...and from that sacrifice? Meaning. The death of the tree, the formation of a building from that same tree, and the death of the deer all have meaning through the economy of sacrifice long forgotten before our time. This necessity of sacrifice, of meaning, have been deemed cruel and barbaric in an era where we put a blind eye to mortality and instead chose to envelope ourselves in a cocoon of technology meant to protect us from the percievably harsh manner in which we envision the world today...a harshness falsely percieved because of our own weakness.
In denying mortality we crush the human spirits will to live, the will to exist against whatever odds be they small or great. We replaced meaning with distraction, sacrifice with hedonism, and in doing so we have already died. The ugly truth is that our generation has nothing to live for as our souls have become incapacitated in the face of material excess, and the human condition has become reduced, and is being reduced, simply to one of a number which projects itself through time until it is dissolved through further multiplication or division.
We no longer build...no longer destroy...but rather live lives of progressive sterilization in the effort to avoid a simple fact: "I am not God". Our labors of sacrifice have been replaced by machines, and our relationships whether they be one with the self, Divinity, or fellow men and women are mere exhibitions that have lost any merit as one thing becomes the next and our inability to focus on any one thing has become an inability to become anything.
We do not morn the dead, or their sacrifices upon which our lives are built...we do not celebrate life by living life...as we do not know what life really is about. And that is the question, isn't it? "What is life really about?" Trying to encapsulate the answer through a single question does not do it any justice, and even if it where to be written down it would be spit upon by self-righteous hypocrites who do not know the meaning of the words blood, sweat, and tears.
We bleed, yes, by accident when cutting a finger or scratching a knee during a game, but no one knows what it means to work one's hands into a series of bloody blisters in an attempt to build, or even destroy, something of beauty or value.
We cry, yes, when a sports game is lost or something we "desire" does not come within our grasp. But few "people" know the horrific beauty of sacrificing an aspect of the self for another or simply just fucking up in life without trying to blame "x" reason.
In this freedom, a paradox of god-like strength and child-like vulnerability take hold as the darkness of not just the human condition but ignorance and death have encompassed us as prisoners through the bars of time we continually seek to saw through under the guise of efficiency we mold through the lens of technology.
Noone ever taught us how to die, hence none of us have every really lived. To us death has been replaced by the sacrifice to the God's of pleasure, rather than to the One God of Life through which the All owe both respect and Allegiance...if not love and gratitude. We ask these gods, of our own making...our own image embodied through mindless irrational greed, violence and lust to help us to forget who and what we are: mortal. Maybe in reality it should be the other way around, looking at the shear beauty and magnitude of one's hands and the power we see within...a sacrifice of praise should be made to the One Creator from which all meaning proceeds by our free ability to measure under the simple, yet deep, tasks of creation and destruction embodied through the mind, body, and spirit of the human constitution.
Instead of faking invulnerability, is it not more honest to thank God for weakness? One only has to look at life to know the smallest thing, whether the swing of a hammer, kind words from a friend, or the act of forgetting oneself but for a moment sends a ripple through time that reflects for all eternity. A small pebble incapacitates the toughest of soldiers...how much more so the human will against this mechanistic society we false call our "home"? As men and women today we should not ask God for a means on how to be pleasured as our evident misery shows us this in itself is nothingness. Rather we should ask our Father, the Creator and Destroy of Universes: "Show me how to live fully and die fully." For meaning is not found in the trivial pleasures we are taught on what to base our lives around...no...it is found in the mortality of the human condition as it strives under a hope found in hopelessness.
Death holds no power or meaning in the face of sacrifice. The love of a man when he gives a woman a child, the gentle rain drops of the night air giving themselves to a small rose, the act of kindness and brotherly compassion given to he or she who has no hope but death.
In these moments the glory and beauty of life springs forth and death is abolished, holding no power over the body in sickness or the mind and heart in ignorance. We have lost our humanity because we forgot to sacrifice ourselves, over the simplest of people or things and hence we are imprisoned by ourselves. The mechanistic chamber of plastic, silicon and steel has become our tomb...the the continual dripping of the human will ordained by God, must and will erode these very bars...for what is hard yields to what is soft.
We have no meaning, to ourselves and to eachother, and the quest of pleasure and the prideful purpose of power must be the first thing that is chopped down. Our vanity must be refashioned to sacrifice; the identity of "I" must be mercifully put to its death. And yet these words are blasphemy in today's day and age before our handmade gods. Fuck the gods, their time must be put to an end as the era of man, as the image of the one God, must take its rightful place of Divinity.
