Thursday, January 24, 2013


We're meaning-makers, 
mythologizers, and archetypians,
every one of us.

Readily writing scripts
which cast ourselves as the central character,
we dip our ladles of certainty
below the surface of form constantly.
Always some part of us seeking to understand,
very skilled at convincing itself it does.

Science is the same as religion - 
a pack of meaning-makers with high IQs,
less imagination,
and perhaps the most boring hubris of all:

"Our story is not a 'story.'
Our story is objective fact."

Devout Christians 
spot Jesus in their ricecakes
just as readily
as geophysicists observe chemical reactions,
each of them eagerly nodding to themselves:

"Yes, of course, I see it now...
this explains everything."

We're world-explainers
you silly fucks,
you miraculous improbabilities.
Confronted with the sheer absurdity 
of our own existence
we are driven to do the impossible:
to make sense.
Over and over again 
we explain the world to ourselves 
in an attempt to do just that.

And what's more, 
we argue with each other about it:

"I use Jesus to explain the world to myself."
"Well I use aliens."
"That's stupid. I'll pray for you."
"Whatever. Get probed."

Silly meaning-makers,
amateur mythologizers.
Often so insecure about our own conclusions
that we run around recruiting,
still operating under the assumption that

"Join my club, all those other clubs suck!"
"What do I get for joining?"
"We'll make you feel really guilty about having sex,
and you float in blissful eternal salvation when you die!"
"I'll pass, thanks."

Aaah, the fun of mythologizing - 
the sweet addiction of gathering evidence,
the contented camaraderie of those who agree.

We may never give it up,
this age-old habit of ours...
but how nice would it be for all of us
to be respectfully curious about each other's stories,
and to not take our own so seriously?