One Hundred and Thirty Four

There are no absolutes. If there were, I’d agree with those who claim bringing a child into this world constitutes child abuse. But this world isn’t absolutely terrible. There are moments when it’s wonderful. But are those moments worth enduring the hours when its not?

I don’t think anyone believes they are. We say they are because we hope that as we grow older, we’ll grow wiser, until we finally know how to live well. But we never do. Instead we learn that no matter how bad things are, they can always get worse, and probably will

Things get better from time to time, in some places, for some people; but they’re the exception. The rule is entropy.

We’ve lost faith in the old gods, and can’t imagine new ones. Time and time again we've made gods of what we imagined was best in us, only to have them bring out what’s worst in us, until we finally lost faith in our ability to imagine a better world, much less build it. We’ve lost faith in ourselves.

It’s a mistake to have absolute faith in anything, including ourselves, Especially ourselves. 

We used to know that we’re limited, and strove to know what those limits are; but our early successes misled us into believing we had no limits. We thought we could do anything if we put our minds to it. Now we know better.

In time we might have recovered from this funk, and having learned from our mistakes, do better. But we don’t have time. The world’s dying, and won’t wait for us to learn to do better.