Saturday, January 14, 2017

I have no identity. But there is the I - how? I have an identity, or an I. It is just that it has no axiomatic, focal plane on which it resides. I am the I. But the I is homeless, psychically speaking. There are different ways to be homeless, for instance, the cyber homeless population in Japan. Then again, is not my identity to be found in Christ? But who is Christ? Christ is God. But who is God? God is who He is. He is objectively true. As far as human effort goes, it seems near impossible for anyone to know Christ - and that's probably not near impossible but actually impossible. What devices does mere man have to reach out to God - not just a concept, but a person? If a man only knows a concept, that means he doesn't go beyond himself because concepts exist at a subjective level in the mind. Man could once, through the senses, know God by taking Jesus of Nazareth into account; however, for some, this was only performed aesthetically. I know this because not everyone who perceived him knew him; seeing God is insufficient. If seeing the body of Christ itself was insufficient, then how much more insufficient must our efforts be in this geographically far-removed modernity? I've already talked about the senses. What else do we have? Intellect, emotions ... I'm drawing a blank ... is that most of it? The senses, intellect, and emotions can all be used to deny God. Of course, these tools can be used for good, but the point is that they're double edged. How does one know God apart from such imperfect devices and is that possible in the first place?

Do I have anything other than questions? I have jeered at the postmodernists, but apparently, I am one myself. Most of the paradigms I display are fragmented. As much as I delight in zealously telling part of a story, I worry that someone will take it as what I understand the whole story to be. I guess I don't have that much an understanding at all.

Story? Why am I throwing around this postmodern jargon? I really don't care. I don't even completely like it. I'm doubting myself. I was going to ramble about how I have no identity and how that's identified through my writing; that's ironic. Two words? Is that all I have to offer? Can two words even form a proper sentence? They can. Notice how I just reaffirmed myself by resorting to the very device that made me doubt myself.

Feelings are so very fickle. Strange how an emotion like disappointment is portrayed as being profound, but so often, the events that culminate into that emotion are quite superficial in actuality. But that's just being human and we're all wondering what that really means.

I haven't written this way in awhile. In fact, I haven't even thought about writing this way in awhile. I've had my eyes turned outward for so long, seeing vanity and evil and meaning and goodness alike. But the time has come that I must look inward again. I can't write like this whenever I want to. Every so often I have this idea of watching over myself and it resulting in a more meaningful life, and then, only seconds later, I've forgotten the entire plan. Then again, I've wasted much time doing that to no known benefit to me (of course, there's a selfish notion there, this concern of personal benefit). There's always something going on other than me. All the time. Everywhere. As long as I am alive, it's constantly the others and me. It's never been Richard and Richard - even if he loves himself.

I have no fear whatsoever of contradictions though - actually, that's not entirely true.

1 comment:

  1. The mind can reel. When it does, don't fight it. It means you're on the right path. If your head is too comfortable with your belief in God, you're missing the mark.

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