A Short Stay in Hell

Even if we die, we just wake up the next morning as if nothing had ever happened. Will praying hasten the search?

Spear from the Wealdend’s Tree

Jorge Luis Borges from your world called “The Library of Babel.”

Lastly, you are here to learn something. Don’t try to figure out what it is. This can be frustrating and unproductive.

Where do all the things you believed go, when all the supporting structure is found to be a myth? How do you know how or on what to take a moral stand, how do you behave when it turns out there are no cosmic rules, no categorical imperatives?

The absurdity of it has never left me. We can’t care about anything here. We can’t make a difference – all meaning has been subtracted, we don’t know where anything comes from or where it goes. There’s no context for our lives. We’re all white, equal ciphers, instances of the same absurdity repeated over and over. We try to scratch some hope or mea

What is love that it has such power? Whatever it is, it seems unlikely this God who placed me here knows anything about it. If it loved me in the least, could it inflict what it has upon me? Who can understand?

Purple Aardvark on Second South in Mountain Grove, Utah.”

Strange, how a moment of existence can cut so deeply into our being that while ages pass unnoticed, a brief love can structure and define the very topology of our consciousness ever after.