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Friday, March 25, 2011

Pandora (Anne Rice, c1998)

Love. And it rained and it rained for millions of years,and the volcanoes boiled and the oceans cooled, and then there was love?

My feeling for my father is so great to this very night, as I sit in the cafe, writing for you David, that I am astonished at the power of writing - of putting words to paper and bringing back so vividly to myself my Father's loving face.

We learn to hide our souls because we are betrayed by others.

I knew that out of our practical human minds we devised these things with an immortality of soul that would not allow the world to be devoid of meaning.

Love, this requires strength from us, this requires endurance; this requires an acceptance of all that is unknown.

The trick is not to reject it but to realize what her image meant. To extract from that image the best in my own soul.

But reason was only a created thing, imposed with faith upon the world, and the stars promise nothing to no one.

Because you see me, I am here. Because you lift the candle, I can almost see my strength in the looking glass.

If you would have human philosophy, then struggle and make yourself wise, so that nothing can hurt you ever. Wisdom is strength. Collect yourself, whatever you are, into something with a purpose.

But know this. All is speculation under the sky. All myth, all  religion, all philosophy, all history - is lies.

You have given me a desperate faith that in narrative there is a shadow of meaning... You have trained me through your demand upon my language and my memory to live again, to believe again that some good exists in this world.

Love. But whence comes this love? Why is it so secretive about its source, this love that makes rain and trees and has scattered the stars over us as the gods and goddesses once claimed to do?

The finest thing under the sun and moon is the human soul. I marvel at the small miracles of kindness that pass between humans, I marvel at the growth of conscience, at the persistence of reason in the face of all superstition or despair. I marvel at human endurance.

27th January 2003
kaigachi is a conjugation of the Japanese term "kigaicha" or crazy. It roughly translates as "crazy about something."

"One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light but by making the darkness conscious." - C.Jung

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