Practical Epistles And Inconsistent Worms It’s interesting. As I devour the incandescent light of silence around me I find myself watching the gulls above me circle and swerve I levy thoughts at the prospect of eternal life. I speak not of the immortal variety we all sometimes aspire to but of the kind of eternal celebration in cannon that can be found. In an overly and somewhat convoluted way I have endeavored to place my thoughts in these small articles and in the most part I hope I have made a good job of it. Casting a critical eye over observations and cursory opinions it has been my pleasure to examine and ponder lightheartedly questions that dog life in general. Perhaps this has been in a somewhat incomplete and rather fatuous fashion, though I hope in vein not so much. However in these efforts much has been lost. Failure blasts its torrid veil over these epistles in that no mention has ever been made as to how my copious conclusions have been reached or by what authority I see fit to divulge them to you. Much has come to pass around me in the past that I cannot escape and I fear I might have unfortunately let that influence my writings here. I would crave your indulgence to exorcise these inconsistencies here and try to explain the reasons for this mistake. I might start by stating a little prologue to my explanation. Much has been written and theorized on theories of the existence of what we call the afterlife; great scholars and thinkers have scribbled late into the evening and night to illuminate the subject. While both scholars and thinkers are very much of the same mind on some topics they can be drawn into tow distinct categories on others. Scholars for example tend to be academics of a varied sort who labour to distinguish life as a functional and distinct plain in which matter interacts with its brother and creates bigger and better matter, while thinkers on the other hand tend to be of a slightly different order. These thinkers can be better described in this context as those of a theological persuasion who seek to find deities, spiritual and religious virtues in all things on this earth. A large proportion of these men tend to be of the church but some are simply academics whose researches have taken them on a more subversive path. While those who draw their belief in the physical world find power in the certainty of this plain people such as the Swedenborg and Mesmer developed the system we now know as spiritualism in the mid 17th century. Even people such as the great Conan Doyle were certain in the knowledge of its validity. Conan Doyle of course, who one of my erstwhile colleagues at the Royal Mail once described with such decorum and respect as a ‘complete loony’, wrote the Sherlock Holmes stories. A character of literary immortality that was renound for being of absolutely practical orientation in life; created by a ‘complete loony’. A more complete dichotomy I find hard to recollect in literary terms. Though towards the late 19th century others like Carl Jung and Durkheim, a psychologist and sociologist respectively, laboured long to try to convince people that the world should be viewed from a purely scientific basis. My hypothesis, however deluded, is that one of these theories does not preclude the other. Having struggled through schooling and latterly collage under the tutelage of many a good and patient mind it has become evident that without the Fairies And Hobbits at the bottom of one’s garden the Knights Of The Round Table could not exist to impose their order. The same is vice versa. The shame and pity of such scholarship as has been discussed is evident when the two factions are seen to bustle for recognition against each other. Today we find such luminaries as Brian Cox, Stephen Hawking and Richard Dawking trying to persuade us or the practical truths of existence. Though the latter is somewhat harsh in his approach and ever so slightly irritating in my view. Even so he does have grounding in so far as his bases for practical postulations are concerned. However insensitive he might be. So the question firmly lands in our laps that is do we really need practical and solid grounding to relate to the physical universe and the spiritual realm? Is it necessary to lose hope and the love of life when confronted with grief and loss? Does life after death exist or is it a figment made solid through our vulnerability? Faith is the answer I think. Faith and hope. These two underestimated truths, excestencial or not, are the fundamental basis upon which all life is founded. We all have faith and are religious about something whether we like it or not. It is possible to be religious about not being religious for example. Very cold attitude but then the ways in which human relations within grief have evolved are cold. The other side of the equation is just as irrational as the practical. For example the other day I stood watching a particularly emotional drama on television when a wave of grief washed over me from virtually know where and dating back years. Emotional trauma and longing can go on for years in the human heart sealed by a need for faith and religion. It was probably only my innate knowledge in the practicalities of life that prevented me from picking up a leaflet on a spiritual seminar that I had seen in my local shop the previous day. A prime example of the two theoretical consistencies working together. Yet they are still studied apart. My faith was tested for many years after my life went astray the first time. One of the best parts of me just disappeared one day. Or at least that’s how it felt at the time. The best thing about life and living it however is that no matter how much you lose when someone goes you find another part of you grows. Through the trials and trauma, fears and uncertainty, something new is born within you. I suppose its like a worm regrowing its chopped off torso. Perhaps that’s what we all are? Simple worms dancing to the tune of your faith. Though simple worms can form one of the most complicated parts of nature itself. The earth. The gulls swerve back to me now as I feel the breeze again as they bring with them everything that remains to be found in faith. The birds fly gracefully into the sunset as I place some of that faith in them. Hoping they find new ground as I scrabble for mine.
Posted on: Wed, 29 Oct 2014 13:06:06 +0000
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