Human beings go to amazing lengths to convince themselves that they are special, that they are sensitive souls, that unlike the unlettered masses, they, the highly educated, the 'elite' actually do care -- like, for example, the way scholars read books written by William Faulkner and struggle to 'empathize' with the disgusting characters therein depicted.
Even after years of sporadic reading of Faulkner's stories I too feel that my mind is special, that I am one of those natural persons who is able to see through the widespread social scam that declares those impenetrable writings as being superior to the clear and directly written stories of lesser non-genius authors, that I am not fooled by the conditioning administered by the minions of higher education.
But I know, of course, that I am not special at all. I am an habitual cynic who believes in nothing.
I do not believe in the conventional perception of a personal god. Yet I do not loudly declare, as do the militant gnu-atheists, that there is no god.
I believe in nothing.
It seems that almost all people, nearly every living person, believes that human beings are more than biological entities, more than just an animal, better than only an upright-walking mammal possessing a complex brain -- that people have a mysterious soul that distinguishes them from all the other animals that roam the planet.
I do not.
I believe in nothing.
This does not make me a happy person. But yet it does not make me especially unhappy, either. One thing it does do, though, is to spur me on to continue searching for that elusive answer to the question: "Why am I here?" -- always hoping that eventually I will suddenly 'see the light' and then I will know...
The only reason I am publishing the above drivel instead of deleting it as I usually do is because I am not feeling so well this morning... -- neither physically nor mentally. But I've found through experience, that "this too shall pass."
I'll feel better in a few hours. And I can always come back later and delete the entire entry.
Anetta Pirinen says she knew something significant had happened in her mind the day the word "Homer" stopped being a Greek poet and took on the meaning of a cartoon character.
Be careful about reading health books.
You may die of a misprint.