If we're going to do this, we have to set some ground rules first. This is what you're going to have to take on trust:
1) We're real. We exist. We're rare, extremely rare, but we're here.
2) Our vision, actually, is pretty terrible, almost all of the time. It's only occasionally that we clearly see, and we have no control over those occasions. It's unfortunate, and for some of us, like me, it means making mistakes that someone with no foresight at all would never make. It means, for most of us, a life of not really recognizing what we are, until that one, first stunning moment when we really, clearly, clairvoyantly see. That moment changes us, the way a day without pain transforms someone who's always suffered. After that moment, the hunger for another miracle never vanishes.
If we long for meaning, but the universe remains silent, then we must accept the responsibility of being the only meaning, which is, so far as we know, what we are. The still, small voice of an otherwise silent cosmos, seeing itself turning. That's us. Turning but not returning.
1) We're real. We exist. We're rare, extremely rare, but we're here.
2) Our vision, actually, is pretty terrible, almost all of the time. It's only occasionally that we clearly see, and we have no control over those occasions. It's unfortunate, and for some of us, like me, it means making mistakes that someone with no foresight at all would never make. It means, for most of us, a life of not really recognizing what we are, until that one, first stunning moment when we really, clearly, clairvoyantly see. That moment changes us, the way a day without pain transforms someone who's always suffered. After that moment, the hunger for another miracle never vanishes.
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