The angry virus-like theory

What am I in this life, this whole world, but one pair of eyes to witness what lies before me?
My person in itself means very little, and in essence I am equal or of no more importance than any other person. My mind, on the other hand, is the wild card that can transform my own experience of life into something meaningful at least for my self. Everything else is superfluous. Remove the mind from the equation and we all become fancy monkeys. We would no longer be the virus of a planet, but another species among billions of others.

Because I am part of that virus, it is hard for me to see our kind as the destructive one, but no matter how I look at it, the pattern is there. We are merely the bigger version of the viruses we fight and can never truly destroy.

Adaptability: we are the champion of the field. We always adapt to survive, and we shape ourselves to the environment, while our reasoning ability allows us to learn how to slowly transform that same environment but always in a destructive way because it is in essence what defines us. Viruses that kill us adapt constantly to our tricks and they often make a come back more destructive than the last.

Propagation: We multiply in clusters and we spread. That is another constant or common trait we share with viruses.

In the midst of a virus-like population there are what we will call mutations, or exceptions to the rule, but those are few and far in between. Those who happen to lack the destructive trait are the ones we see as ‘good’ people in general. They are never the norm among the human race, but the exception. Thus, they are the degenerative group of the whole. In that light it therefore makes sense that the ‘good’ are often the ones perishing or destroyed in some way by others of the same race. That is because our main dominating trait is to spread and destroy. Those who don’t are left behind or anhilated.
Many can disagree with this view, but I doubt anyone could argue logically against it.

There is no truth out there, only convenient versions of it.

Themes of reality

Reality is just as it presents itself. Its people, objects and landscapes are the intricate parts of a living sphere, and just like the ticking hands of a watch they obey a certain order with a certain predefined margin for error. There is no escaping beyond that margin.

The mind creates windows of opportunity one can choose to follow, all the while remembering that it must fit in with the laws of reality and its margins. Expect too much, ignore the laws such as gravity and human limitations, and you’re in for a harsh awakening. Most lives, even that of humans, are more akin to a game of chess, where only a certain number of moves are allowed or possible, the rest is pointless or doomed to fail. The more random the moves, the more random the outcomes.

Probabilities can then go either way: complete chaos or return to order by evening out the effects of random outcomes. Just as two negatives turn into a positive.

Gravity defines our perception of reality. It is the mother-law of all other laws that ensue. The falling apple example represents the epitome of reality.

Time... It seems that time does not exist in itself. It ‘exists’ only in so far as there is a living being conscious enough to feel it or experience it. There is no past, present or future, only a continuum on which people and other living beings evolve much like vectors along it. Remove all vectors and the continuum has no more existence, it is nothing and everything at once.

A being conscious of its own existence gives substance to the notion of time passing. Therefore the notion of ‘time passing’ is relative to each individual but can be more or less experienced within the same spectrum. It might even be that gravity plays a crucial factor in our ability to create such a notion as time which is linked to our own sense of existence: the closer to Earth, the stronger the impression that time is going slowly. Thus the time throughout childhood is probably the one that felt closer to an eternity that could never end. And then growth spur suddenly seems to speed up time passing for good. The rest of existence is spent with little height changes and thus the being is immersed in the same time experience for a lengthy period of time that only seems to run like water between fingers.

the tailoring of Freedom

I am forever torn between the need for individual freedom and fairness.

Individual freedom in its true form would require a deep set of morals from each person but that can never happen, can it? Unless every single individual possessed and respected a code of ethics, the notion of individual freedom can only remain a sham. The thief, the murderer, the scammer, the power-hungry sod and all the rest would have to be capable to restrain themselves from stealing, killing, ripping others off and so on.

Then, and only then, would freedom truly have a chance to exist or allowed to be. Failing a general consensus where everyone agrees to truly follow a strict code of ethics, people will always need to be watched and somewhat controlled. A system like capitalism only serves to feed people’s greed while giving off the false impression of freedom.

In reality you’re only free according to how much money you have in your pocket. Therefore the more money you have, the freer you might feel. That is not true freedom.

Sometimes it’s hard not to wonder how long this life is going to go on for. It feels like a silly game where all the players keep running like headless chickens in all directions according to their wants and wishes. Everywhere you look people are rushing past you to get something better in life; a position, social ascension, a job, a house... It feels like one big race each individual is forced to enter and those who trip or are confused are ruthlessly left behind. The only safety net one can hope to find is the one society provides by granting you a little money each week or so to allow you to survive, not really live.

In the end, the harsh really of life is that the meaner you are the more likely you are to succeed. the more ruthless, the more rewarded. It makes sense: survival of the fittest. I’m just me, wanting a peaceful life where I feel loved and can learn to love others. That wish is turned into a cliche, sounding so cheesy that most people will smirk at it. They already know that to lead a comfortable life one must be calculating and focused on best-value actions or decisions that will get more money.

Money is the ultimate purpose of life for many. Life in itself becomes meaningless unless you have money to give it some value. People mean nothing and are all interchangeable because money is the key. It defines your worth in society and buys you all the features you need to succeed. It can buy you friends, connections, comfort and even a family in the long run. Those who are poor must have a fiery fighting spirit that will push them to become more cunning so that they can one day get enough money to enter the same old arena where money buys everything else.

The stranger vs neighbour paradox

Often, it will be mere strangers who will feel your pain when those around you will flee. It is the paradox of the stranger versus the neighbour.

A much clearer example would be to point at how much likely it is for someone to help another they don’t know, rather than someone who lives next door to them. One element that comes into play in the natural urge for competition most of us possess, deeply etched in the mind. That competitive spirit means that jealousy and envy become a core factor in behaviour or choices we end up making.

That’s why it will always feel easier to send money to some far away country to help cute little kids we don’t know, than crouching beside the beggar in our street to simply talk to him. Something prevents us from truly helping those around us to an extend because the roots of envy and jealousy create a vague fear that our neighbour in need might well end up better off than us at some point.

Since we are naturally inclined to show that we are better than those who surround us, it actually makes sense that we should often fail those closest to us, but not the mere stranger who won’t trigger the competitive instinct so much, if at all.

Delving into man's pain of living

It seems to me that the only period of life worth living is that of childhood. After that everything turns ugly as your eyes begin to see through the layers of illusions.

The only way to remain positive is to ignore the sight. The only way to live a decent human life is to be materialistic, in fact. The more materialistic you are, the less likely you are to dwell on reality as such. You become engrossed in objects of all sorts and this allows your thoughts to keep away from what would give you a headache.

Think of getting a good job, so it will grant you more money, so you can buy a house, so you can plan a holiday, so you can settle down, so you can buy that leather sofa, so you can.... the more engrossed in materiality, the better. Alternatively, you can still escape the cold reality of life by being engrossed with the biological pleasures your existence has to offer, thus spending your time running after one mate to another, settling down at some point to reproduce, maybe. From that you get the sense of having fulfilled your main purpose on Earth, that of ensuring the fate of your own species.

Depression might be an illness, but in humans it is a consequence of lacking the basic safeguard in the brain which cushions your view of the world. It has a direct correlation with you inability at some point in your life to shied yourself from pure reality through imagination, and ultimately, delusions.

Think of chemicals as a whole. What are they and how do they work? We have many man-made chemicals which we produce daily for one reason or another. Alcohol itself has some form of chemicals in it, and it creates a reaction in the body when one drinks it. Chemicals produce a reaction in one form or other, often modifying the functions of other elements it comes into contact with, and that makes me think that the brain acts in the same way at times. It produces special chemicals that allow a person to survive their environment in the realm of pure reality.

Serotonine and whatnot are the brain’s little soldiers that ensure your ability to think and reason won’t turn against you when faced with the might of reality. Lose the battle, or too many soldiers, and you become ‘depressed’. You might even kill yourself.

Doctors might pump your brain with pills that will boost or replace the lost little soldiers, and you might just get ‘better’ because suddenly you are able again to shield your vision from pure reality.

Thought on a midnight day

I feel so ill inside. It doesn’t matter what I tell myself, nothing makes it better. The sun is bright outside, but I am still cold.
When I was little, I had those hamsters. I had made the promise that I would die the day they died. They died, one after the other, and I didn’t. There was the cat, and so I promised him I would die with him. He died, and I didn’t.

Equinox. When the days become as long as the nights. When pain and hope merge into one. When tears become smiles, and fear becomes happiness. When all is blurred, and nothing prevails.

One day after another, they pass,
Hand in hand, they glide
Through time, through times,
Joy, sorrow and pride.

One night after another, they pass,
Side by side, they fly
The coat of darkness falls,
Laugh, cry and sigh.

One day, one night must follow,
Shuffling the feet of time
To creep into the light,
And set the pattern free

I long for the vast, overwhelming green or sunburnt fields that would stretch before me to infinity. I want to forget how scared I am of bugs and crawlies, and I want to escape in the midst of nature. Hunting antilopes, riding zebras, hiding from lions and other big cats... Building my own little house made of wood, digging my well and letting the grass overgrow so much that I would feel as though I am drowning in them... Knowing all the plants I can eat, those that can heal me, those who could kill me... Escaping the hungry fury of leopards, watching the eagles soar in the empty blue skies, letting the sun turn my skin a golden parched labyrinth. Dying, my face against the warm, cracked soil so I can give a little back of what I took from it.
But that could never be my life. I am a city girl through and through. I wouldn’t know how to survive one day in the wild, I would scream in terror at the sight of the slightest spider. Just sitting in that poxy garden here in London, makes my skin crawl. The ants, the bees, the spiders, they all make me jump in terror. Still, I have dreams, hazy dreams, of what freedom ought to feel like, maybe.

How strange to think that freedom appears more concrete when imagining a patch of wilderness, as opposed to man-made society. The rules, the laws, the expectations allow us to experience a certain degree of individual freedom, but it isn’t freedom. It is a compromise to allow billions of others to experience a glimpse of what it ought to feel like.

Nature is so much worse, in the sense that it eclipses all notions of individuality. Nature is blind and rests on an intricate chain of events, all so closely linked together that it only suffices to disturb one element to wreck everything else.

Nature is far from random, though. It might have been the case, at some point in the beginning of life itself, where it acted randomly. As soon as the foundations were placed a chain of events took over, thus trapping nature itself and limiting its freedom. In other words, once something happened, there could not be random factors in play, only a chain of events departing from an original factor. That chain of events is most probably predictable, and our knowledge of all the predictable events is limited by our current ignorance only.

At least nature is blind! It doesn’t have a conscience which could be blamed for anything. Much like an intricate, invisible machine, it is everywhere at once, and it carries on working despite all the changing factors or events that might come its way, adapting and morphing to survive as a whole.

Once you begin to look around -the trees, the animals, the flowers, the sun and skies- you are mesmerised by the sheer beauty of it all, and the life that transpires from all elements, no matter how silent the source of life might seem. That beauty is so powerful and mighty that it hurts.

It was, after all, beauty that killed the beast.

One danse is all it takes,
Leaves, blood and fire,
Twirling, the scortching ire
Wound round the stakes.

Storms in the sea,
wreck the ship and flee
Across the flooded plain
And rise above the pain

Of living, through the day
And the night prevails,
A whisper in the bay
To kill the mocking bells

Of churches grand and glorious
Set in a mist of mighty shadows,
Along a row of weeping willows,
Moaning, crying, furious.