The Borders of Things

The post I cannot post

I am about to take leave of all this political shannanigans. But I can't, completely. This doesn't work and I don't know what to say It's too deep inside of me. I want to, believe me, but then I wouldn't be able to sleep at night. An allusion to death? I have to try to live responsibly, no matter how difficult and impossible that may seem. The impossible, the impossibility of speech in this world. That is not what I meant at all. That is not it, at all. But I want to

That being said, I offer this reflection for the pundits out there who derive their very sustenance from these debates. Remember that you are going to die. And so is your opponent. The other and the self. Who you are and what you want to be. I think sometimes we are who we fear the most and that is who we hate. And everyone else living on this planet: we are all going to die.

Why does this matter? Because I believe that the spectre of our death is a driving force behind every human action. Even those who die for a cause are doing it because of their mortality and they are seeking something transcendent. Consequently, every social, political, moral, pragmatic decision, position, belief comes from an individual, a member of a collective, trying to live a life that is worthy of death. I'm not a very good cultural warrior. I'm not any sort of warrior and I don't have a culture, at least not one I can call my own. "Yes, that's me" is not something I can fully say. A pilgrim on the earth. We are all pilgrims.

This sounds more noble than it is. I'm not trying to paint an idealistic picture and say that all attempts at self-actualization are noble. Pedophilia, racism, are not noble. But we have to realize that all of it comes from fallen man faced with the universe. We are all in the same boat. And of that which we cannot speak clearly, we must remain silent. Or something like that. Forgive me for this pedantic narcissism. I can't speak clearly these days.