Dear diary,
The trick about liberty is that, no matter how “free” one becomes, there always remains some hint of one’s bondage to necessity. The essence of existence is coercion; life is alloyed with restriction.
“We are all just miserable slaves to nature.”
—Officer Duke, from Wrong Cops (2013)
Why must I always breathe to avoid expiring? Why can’t one think and speak without a body? Why can’t being and nothingness make amends? Why is it forbidden to know the simultaneous position and velocity of subatomic particles?
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I now confess that I began this entry playacting. I’m not really in a murderous rage about my lack of freedom. I just wanted to point out that it’s not necessity itself that we wish to be rid of, but rather the feeling of annoyance that occasionally accompanies it. Or maybe some would swap the word “constantly” for my “occasionally.” Despite being forced to continue breathing, I enjoy it. Only if breathing is fraught with pain do I mind it – like all those times in the past when I died of consumption.
Harmony is the key. That is the state where all the participants in a given process are equally contented: the person who is addicted to respiration is feeling pleasantly energized by the act; and the air molecules that are being swished in and out of the lungs are humming and happy.
Then, when “contented” becomes “enthused” (in our definition above), we move from harmony to euphoria. And a state beyond that undoubtedly awaits us, too, if we would only lower our guard and accept it.
Whether or not “work” is a dirty word depends on the same concept: To harmonize labor is to make what was a struggle into a dance.
It’s annoying when one’s boss whips one to work faster, because every action has a natural rhythm, to find which is to harmonize with time. (Bosses tend to be discordant.)
This is, I think, why Kafka says that all sin is impatience.
So, what’s God’s problem? (I’m talking about the God of Christianity.) He is out of harmony with his creation. Humankind annoys God – God cannot discover its rhythm. Instead of allowing willfulness to have a place in the great cosmic dance, God throws a fit and excommunicates everything. Now he’s all alone – nobody can see him, he never speaks to anyone anymore; he no longer even opens his prayers.
Thus, God is the reconciliation of being and nothingness. This is his achievement; it was thought to be impossible. Yes, in his own way, God is harmonious after all; he’s not just a boss. Apparently, it pays to be always charging the horizon and shattering new ceilings for freedom.
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What does it mean, to stand by a clear lake and see the sun reflected in its surface, and then to reach forth with one’s hand and touch the water, causing ripples to radiate, so that the sun’s image is multiplied into countless replications? What are these phenomena trying to tell us?
You might say “Phenomena neither strive nor speak.” Really? For I myself am either one among them or a smattering of phenomena, and I enjoy conversation. It is true that I would rather avoid endeavoring, I don’t like exerting myself; so maybe you’re right about phenomena never striving. Still, could there be a meaning behind the above scene on the shoreline – a meaning that was not lodged there by intention but rather was effortlessly present all along, the way that a dream can disclose hidden truths about its dreamer?
The answer is: Yes, any meaning will do. All preordained truths are invented post hoc. I’m not being contemptuous: the present trumps the past and the future. And, just like the traits of those subatomic particles that I mentioned in the beginning, nobody knows exactly where the present moment is. We have a general idea; but, when we try to get specific, everything grows hazy. The keys of the piano physically exist; but the harmony that one hears is wholly mental. All is a play between concrete and abstract. “Eternity is in love with the productions of time.” (Blake)
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