Sipping a nice coffee and listening to “Carpe Lumen“. Thinking about just how good we have it here. If one has never been anywhere else then it’s probably harder to realize just how good we have it but then, …
I think of life as a kind of bus trip. It is a lot like traveling by bus in India or Nepal. If you have ever actually traveled like this you will understand instantly what I mean about this being like life. Nothing is certain. You may, or may not arrive. Death may be just a silly oopsie away, and you do not share the driver’s belief in rebirth. You find your self cheek to jowl with reality in all it’s splendor. You don’t ask what the food is or was, you only drink the tea or the beer, you are just glad to get a break and have something to eat.
You arrive eventually at your stop (if God permits it), so covered in the dust of travel that you cannot even tell what the original colours of your cloths are or even see the numbers on the face of your watch. and the clothes and watch are utterly irrelevant anyway so the dust really doesn’t matter. You are just overjoyed to have arrived and you spontaneously thank God for your deliverance.
Along the way, we keep passing this familiar side road on this long bus ride of life. It kinda looks like this, like life’s a beach. And if we get off the bus and walk down the side road, we find ….
The side road is always the same, it’s always full of masked figures strutting and preaching repetitively about how evil and pernicious Faith is. How naive or even willfully stupid the faithful are. how faith keeps us from having fun. Cluck, cluck, the raised eye brow, the crook of the lips, the roll of the eyes. “There’s probably no God, now stop worrying and enjoy your life” from a bus ad by the British Humanist Bus Advertising Campaign, full of sound and fury and all that.
The supercilious shrug of pseudo-compassion and soi-disant tolerance. Blood relatives, friends, acquaintances, perfect strangers. You happen to say something they disagree with : “BULLS_ _ T!” All sound and fury, preaching the same oration in endless variations, but ultimately all the same movie, the same script, the actors and the skin color, and the perversions change but the series continues playing endlessly, another season of banality and evil, another, another, what’s that now – season 2015? … life’s a beach, life’s a beach, life’s a beach … and it is always a dead end.
Can’t disagree, can’t talk about anything real, can’t disturb the great godless circle jerk. That’s just appalling behaviour, dont’cha know?.
Czesław Miłosz was a Polish poet, prose writer, translator and diplomat of Lithuanian origin. His World War II-era sequence, “The World”, is a collection of twenty naive poems. Following the war, he served as Polish cultural attaché in Paris and Washington, D.C., then in 1951 defected to the West. His nonfiction book, “The Captive Mind” (1953), became a classic of anti-Stalinism.
From 1961 to 1998 he was a professor of Slavic Languages and Literatures at the University of California, Berkeley. He became a U.S. citizen in 1970. In 1978 he was awarded the Neustadt International Prize for Literature, and in 1980 the Nobel Prize in Literature.
Which trip are you on my brothers and sisters, my friends? I can understand why you might roll your eyes at me but ” If I have spoken evil, give testimony of the evil; but if well, why strikest thou me?”
Read them both back to back and then think about things for a bit. Think about where you are on your bus trip. Did you get off at the side road? Are you mad at God because you think he is not listening? Are you the little kid who packed his bag and is running away from home? “I’ll show them!”
Ask yourself “Do you stand with the Pharisees and Pilate? Do you still want the latest Barabbas?”
disclaimer for the nit pickers: we take pride in being incomplete, incorrect, inconsistent, and unfair. We do all of them deliberately