A Headache of What Constitutes Religion

Perhaps the truth is that we can believe anything, and that as humans we are susceptible only to what is the most easy and sinister of actions, and the most convoluted of thoughts (which would lead to the most easy and sinister of actions).

And perhaps religion is what saves us from hurting each other and promotes instead the most positive and productive of feelings - anything that falls short, or falls off step, should not qualify as faith/religion at all.

Dear World

Now I have but one choice to make - to leave the subject of Pain for the freedom to foray into the creative Unknown, or not to leave.

I know my choice. 'Freedom' is a conscientiously chosen word. Released from the gravity of Pain is a kind of liberation, a disillusionment at once overt and subtle, onto a latitude altogether exciting and beautiful. Rather than purposeless suspension, subjects of the heart - subjects of real love, faith, kindness, courage, strength - can provide common ground for exploring universal philosophies. And I say 'universal' with great humility, because I am neither superior nor inferior to the human race, and not very specially apart from it.

Philip Larkin

XXVIII

Is it for now or for always,
The world hangs on a stalk?
Is it a trick or a trysting-place,
The woods we have found to walk?

Is it a mirage or miracle,
Your lips that lift at mine:
And the suns like a juggler's juggling-balls,
Are they a sham or a sign?

Shine out, my sudden angel,
Break fear with breast and brow,
I take you now and for always,
For always is always now.

Beauty

Beauty, I've come to realise, fades. The only beauty that doesn't is the kind where a pure soul is involved, where there is genuine, honest, kind-hearted, selfless, humble, yet ferocious living - and it is the kind of Good that grows to the imitation of Paradise here on earth.

Moving

You are always moving. That is the least of what I've learnt so far. You are either going up or down. You are not stagnant. You do not stay in one place.

There isn't much else to say. I am not particularly articulate as of now, though it’s not for want of trying. What happens when the words stop coming? Do you fall into a lapse - spatially, temporally - where there is simply a thin hum of silence? Or worse, a lapse where the silence is incapable of acknowledging itself, a silence so silent it comes with no emotion, no personality, no awareness, a numbed silence that gradually crosses you out, that really only means you don't give a flying fuck anymore?