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call it the fault of civilization. god isn't compatible with machinery and scientific medicine and universal happiness.
"but i don't want comfort. i want god, i want poetry, i want real danger, i want freedom, i want goodness. i want sin."
i know you will not be there in the dunes. except that i will be there. i will be there and through me you will be there. i think, if i am in the place where we were together, then we are together again.
take the matter as you find it: ask no questions, utter no remonstrances; it is your best wisdom. you expected bread, and you have got a stone: break your teeth on it, and don't shriek because the nerves are martyrized; do not doubt that your mental stomach — if you have such a thing — is strong as an ostrich's; the stone will digest. you held out your hand for an egg, and fate put into it a scorpion. show no consternation: close your fingers firmly upon the gift; let it sting through your palm. never mind; in time, after your hand and arm have swelled and quivered long with torture, the squeezed scorpion will die, and you will have learned the great lesson how to endure without a sob. for the whole remnant of your life, if you survive the test — some, it is said, die under it — you will be stronger, wiser, less sensitive. this you are not aware of, perhaps, at the time, and so cannot borrow courage of that hope. nature, however, as has been intimated, is an excellent friend in such cases, sealing the lips, interdicting utterance, commanding a placid dissimulation — a dissimulation often wearing an easy and gay mien at first, settling down to sorrow and paleness in time, then passing away, and leaving a convenient stoicism, not the less fortifying because it is half-bitter.
there are people who render you as cold as stone when you move near them. there are people who make you feel as if you were in the presence of a hollow, soundless shell; you may strike it, and it will give back no echo; you may search it, and you will find no heart, no soul, no mind. you look for life, and you find only a mechanism; you look for warmth, and you find a void. such people are neither good nor bad; they are simply empty — walking, talking, breathing emptiness.
time has no divisions to mark its passage, there is never a thunder-storm or blare of trumpets to announce the beginning of a new month or year. even when a new century begins it is only we mortals who ring bells and fire off pistols.
besides my world there existed another world, a realm like a temple in which anyone who entered was transformed and suddenly overpowered by a vision of the whole cosmos, so that he could only gaze and admire, forgetful of himself. here lived the 'other', who knew god as a hidden, personal, and at the same time universal secret. here nothing separated man from god; indeed, it was as though the human mind gazed upon creation simultaneously with god.
you give but little when you give of your possessions. it is when you give of yourself that you truly give.
but wherever i found living things, there heard i also the language of obedience. all living things are obeying things. and this heard i secondly: whatever cannot obey itself, is commanded. such is the nature of living things.
if i'm ever unsure as to the correct course of action, i'll think, 'what would a ferret do?' or, "how would a salamander respond to this situation?' invariably, i find the right answer.
my life, i realized, had gone wrong. very, very wrong. i wasn't supposed to live like this. no one was supposed to live like this. the problem was that i simply didn't know how to make it right. mummy's way was wrong, i knew that. but no one had ever shown me the right way to live a life, and although i'd tried my best over the years, i simply didn't know how to make things better. i could not solve the puzzle of me.
'to be clear,' i said, 'i'm not some sort of... stalker. i merely found out where he lives, and i copied out a poem for him, which i didn't even sent. and i tweeted him once, but that's all. that's not a crime. all of the information i needed was in the public domain. i didn't break any laws or anything like that.'
'yes, i suppose you would have remembered an oliphant in the room,' i said.
time is only an illusion produced by the succession of our states of consciousness as we travel through eternal duration, and it does not exist where no consciousness exists in which the illusion can be produced; but 'lies asleep.' the present is only a mathematical line which divides that part of eternal duration which we call the future, from that part which we call the past.
"but the unifying theory does exist. it must. we just haven't figured it out yet. and i think the pursuit of finding one law to explain the universe is, yes, science, but it's also the pursuit of god." "not the god that most people are talking about," vanessa said. joan considered this. "the jewish philosopher spinoza said that god did not necessarily make the universe, but that god is the universe. the unfolding of the universe is god in action. which would mean science and math are a part of god." "and we are a part of god because we are a part of the universe," vanessa said. "or better yet, we are the universe. i would go so far as to say that as human beings, we are less of a who and more of a when. we are a moment in time — when all of our cells have come together in this body. but our atoms were many things before, and they will be many things after. the air i'm breathing is the same air your ancestors breathed. even what is in my body right now — the cells, the air, the bacteria — it's not only mine. it is a point of connection with every other living thing, made up of the same kinds of particles, ruled by the same physical laws. "when you die, someone will bury you or turn your body into ashes. eventually, you will return to the earth. you already are a part of the earth. what better reason do we have to take care of this earth and everything on it than the knowledge that we are of one another?" joan thought about this so often that it startled her now to realize she'd never put it into words before. what a thrill it was, to know it exists. but i also believe in it because i want to believe in it. i want to spend my energy thinking not of how my actions might be frowned upon by a man in the sky, but how my actions affect every living and non-living thing around me. life is god. my life is tied to yours, and to everyone's on this planet. how does that not instantly make us more in debt to one another? and also offer us the comfort that we are not alone?" vanessa smiled at her.
i feel like maybe i still don't accept it. the idea that my dad is gone. i don't really get how it could be the case, if you see what i mean. i think i do, she says. like he just sort of exited from time, and we all have to keep going, within time. do you know what i mean? quietly she says: in a way. he wipes at his nose, his eyes, and tries to swallow. i just feel like there were certain things left unfinished, he says. you know, that we didn't talk about, or that i didn't understand. it is young actually, for your parent to die, if you're twenty-two. i didn't really think that before, but i do now. because i didn't understand certain things. another few years, honestly, would have been better. is that a bad thing to say? no, it's not bad, she says, of course not. just a few more years to think things over, it would have helped me. when i look back, i can't believe how much things i never discussed with him. and even when we did talk, nothing got written down. it's all just memory, and what if the memories fade? you're never going to forget about him, ivan. he hears his voice in the phone now sounding uncontrolled, sounding manic. i practically am already, he says. i can tell you. sometimes an hour will go by and he won't even come into my head. the honest truth. the hour is gone before i even think about him. but that's normal, she says. when someone you love is still alive, you don't think about that person every hour of the day either. because a living person has their own reality, he says. the person who's gone has no reality anymore, except in thoughts. and once they're gone from thoughts, they actually are competely gone. if i don't think about him, literally, i'm ending his existence. low and insistent her voice answering: no, you're really not. his head and hands feel terribly hot, his scalp is hot all over. i feel like, honestly, i might have done a lot of things wrong in my life, he says. maybe a lot, a lot of things i've done wrong. in the past, which i can never go back on. because i didn't understand anything.
i just want this year to be over. it will be, she says. very soon. but that won't bring him back, will it? no, it won't.