“The universe as it is
and not for how we want it
To begin with, WE DON’T GROW UP TO LIVE, WE GROW UP TO DIE. We are constructed, piece by piece, not for life, but for death. No one escapes this blind verdict. Slaves, prisoners, serfs, from birth to death, of a nightmare we call life. All along our existential torture we are at the mercy of something we never saw or spoke with. Born, therefore, not to live, but to die. Each second, each heart bit, each look, each word, is a second, a heart bit, a look and a word less to live. Life runs towards death, towards the end, the end of the end. The unnamable decided our destiny before we were born.
Did I ask to be born? Did you ask to be born? Did anyone ask to be born? No, no one did, and yet here we are in the deadly claws of a senseless destination.
Mentally handicapped creatures along the history of absurdity, tried to console themselves and their kinds inventing lots and lots of mental crap, of mental foolish things and ideas, mountains and mountains of mental nonsense. Today the entire Planet, thanks to all this historical mental crap, stinks.
Ours is the kingdom of the absurd. This is our world and there isn’t another. A world, therefore, without eyes, ears, heart, mind, a blind and queer world.
Arthur Schopenhouer, the german philosopher, used to say, if one had to choose among these three options: to be born, to die as soon as one is born or to live an entire life, for him the first choose would be not to be born, the second to die as soon as he was born, and if he was obliged to live, then he would dedicate his life to pleasure and at the right moment he would decide himself his death.
No matter from which side you see this business of living and dying, there’s no sense, no explanation, no way out, nothing. All, one after another, waiting our turn to die, to be killed, and by whom? In fact, the question of the question: BY WHOM? Who kills us? Old age? Absolutely not.
You work hard, very hard and make sacrifices all along your life, and when you start to relax and to enjoy the fruits of your fatigue, your doctor announces: “Mr Nothing, you’ve got a tumor.”
When you are alone in your house, in the country, in the mountain, anywhere in the world, and happen something bad to you and scream for help, if there aren’t other human beings around, nothing and nobody hears your screams, helps you, watches or sees you. You are alone, just like the trees, the animals, the grass and the stones around you.
Complain, moan, beg for mercy, beg the great cosmic shit for pity, and what for? For what purpose? For what reason? This is the world in which we live, the rest is phantasy.
The golden rule is: EAT OR YOU’LL BE EATEN. That’s what happens among inanimate and animate phenomena. Stars eat other stars, animals eat other animals, plants eat other plants, and among the human species, eccept for the cannibals, some of them learned to eat their kinds by exploiting and robbing them of their life, another way for eating them.
How can one accept this life business without screaming out all his rage and powerlessness? To live, to die, and what for? To live and to die without taking out of ones guts all the appropriate melodies against this wonder, only the stones can do it, and we are not stones.
Is this burst due to impotence? Not at all. Is it fear of death? Not even. Is it due to old age? No, it isn’t. Personally, from a very young age, when I first heard of death and understood what it was all about, I suffered ever since its unreasonable violence.
The verdict? Is there a verdict? If only! At least we would have known who tortures us from birth to death.
The real problem with this calamity of living and dying is having to come to terms, day after day, with the grotesque, with a world of stones, a world where everything can happen in the most crazy and cynical way.
If at home and at school they would have told us about this life business, probably, later on, when we were grown up, we would have accepted it with less rebelliousness and problems. But, at home and at school, they stuffed our head with lies and about the most important ideas, they told us nothing.
Today, at the age of 77, I really can’t understand why all this fury for something that doesn’t exist. Isn’t it better, much better, to accept the world as it is and not for how WE WANT IT TO BE? Why, why we prefer falsity to reality? Here there is something inhuman, something like stones, like brain-dead, something like all that stuff we are constructed and made.
Since I don’t consider myself a stone, I can’t finish this meditation about life, death and our real world, like a stone. No, I can’t. I want to finish it crying for all the species of the Earth, for those who are unconscious of their destiny and for those who are conscious, but above all I want to cry and spill oceans of tears, tears burning with life and love, for all those who know that even in a stony and absurd world, life is unique, beautiful and fantastic!
* The german philosopher, Leibniz, when he wrote that “we live in the best of all possible worlds”, he must have been either totally crazy or he had drunk so much beer to be intoxicated like a whale.