Sometimes, I envy the faith. Not that of common sense, nor even blind faith in an ideology, but rather that deep (and irrational) sense of certainty one feels when thirsty over a glass of water. I envy the “statistical” awareness of wish fulfillment through an intangible yet, at the same time, materialized object down to its darkest features.
But unfortunately, even faith has its flaws. First, that of being seen as a “gift” (intentionally in quotes). A gift from whom? Alas, of the same object that faith should then unveil. The vicious cycle is evident and, unfortunately, also lethal. Squaring the circle fails, and then, to avoid a bad look, we change the names of the elements and make the generated generator.
Day after day, I realize how much man has drowned his glimpse of infinity every day. Still, with the same poignancy, I discover that among all partial (and human) solutions, the one taken as a model of perfection is the least perfectible, the most inadequate to the existential reality of human life.
Can one hope then for the gift of faith? Maybe so. How one would think that a psychosis could cloud the sense of reality to give rise to a fragmented but also deregulated world. But for those who are only victims of neurosis, for those who observe trees without being, in turn, observed by them, for those who think that love, hate, friendship, and “values” are that salt that makes life palatable, can this illusion enlighten?
I believe that doubt is definitely more “human” than any certainty, and, to my great regret, I have long since abolished the ontology of the supreme being unless I praise man’s boundless imagination in designing him and making him his god. Alas, my satisfaction is low, and the stars continue, mute, to be merely observed.
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