You realized it better
when you wander. When you roam in the last hours of night, desperate
for a woman and soaked in wine, you are walking randomly and
uselessly, but this is not the wander I mean. When you erratically
bang from one job to another deal, misled by your false judgement
about money or fame, you definitely walk without a reason and good
for nothing, but this is still not the wander I'm talking about. When
your mind is so full of idiotic grievances about this or that idea,
when you shout full of resentment against this and that, you are
undoubtedly moving on Earth without even the remote presence of a
meaning. Yet, not the wander.
Wander is when you really
let it go. When you are here for no reason at all. Not even
desperation. When your contingent position in a spot of time and space
is truly random, when your location has been determined solely by the
cast of dices, then we are starting to talk of wandering.
You see, human beings are
thrown in the world, as our friend Heidegger was used to say. We wake
up in a state of falling and our consciousness is the making sense of
this precipitous diving. Heidegger thought it was the privilege of
His Highness the human mind; true the rollercoasting complexity of a
human brain accelerated in cultural environment is a unique self
representation of such falling. But we share with any living being
the fate of dissolution. No star, or planet or ocean or storm is
concerned by what will happen. But a dog, a beetle, even an amoeba
is designed to worry for its survival: life is designed to care for
its preservation. The fact of being alive in human minds is
accompanied also by the feeling that is precious this experience. We
believe that our existence is so important that it must mean
something. So it is a natural development for human consciousnesses
to develop the idea of the event. The event of being alive. We are
intimately forced to worship the belief of the event. The happening
of something that is relevant. Like the advent of a god on Earth. The
messianic coming is a correlate of our cognitive architecture. We
must believe that something is happening when we are self-conscious.
And this it the cross we are nailed to. To be alive means to pay
attention to the happening facts. Indeed living beings introduced
relevance in the indifferent flow of universe before life. Life is a
Christ happening in the indistinct permutations of the same. We live
the pain of being there, the tender torture of to be rather than not
to be. But we are playing a role. And it doesn't take a great effort
to see it; more difficult to realize it. Most of the trouble is in
the actuation: how do you practice the fading away of relevance?
And here it comes the
ritual of wandering. The most arduous step is the first: when you
step out of the track. Maybe you wonder which track: any track. The
paths that society prepares for you. The expectations of your
fellows. The trail of your aspirations, of your plans. Finally: the
projection of being there that your accelerated brain is forced to
establish by its own cognitive architecture. If you are there, any
decent author will have an explanation. Easy to say that it is a
purely, materialistic chain that is leading to you.
No other reason
that banging of atoms. You pretend there is no narrative and that you
are an enlightened spirit with no superstition or prejudice. Truly, a
turkey invited for Christmas. The simple seed that placates your
thirst for a reason, for a line of deployment, is satisfied by a
chain of reasons, hanging on nothing. You smile, but the nail is
still in your flesh. It's time to wander and when you wander, you
come down from the cross. It is time to stop saving the world and let
it go. If you are thrown, it is better to be blown. The world ends in
the fluffy and gentle whisper of a breeze that take away all its
sins.
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