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We Are Gods Ourselves

pc_nietzsche_and_the_horse_600When all else fails we whip the horse’s eye. Jimmy cries. Nietzsche weeps. God dies and we cry out loud, swept away by the madness of divine murder.

We are now beyond good and evil. We are Gods ourselves. And lonely. And bored. And prone to killing each other to pass the time. What else can the omnipotent do than destroy themselves?

Perhaps create creatures who will destroy and replace them? Yes, perhaps.

The romantics and hopeful frown and shake their heads in disapproval and denial. This is not a perspective they are willing to entertain — create and destroy others so as to avoid destroying oneself. Divinity is nobler than that, free from human circumstance and vice. God does not play games.

Then they remember their children, their offspring. The world they’ve created comes to mind all too easily, it’s all around them. They see and ponder on their children, and their grandchildren, and their friends’ children, and their acquaintances’ children, and they realize God is not out there, playing games. God is down here, among us, within us. About us. Conscientious and active, indefatigable. They see how they carry God wherever they go and get in touch with their virtual power, remembering they are Gods in themselves, creators once divine, once omnipotent, the force and fire, the core and soul of a world once in the making; once upon a time rising, supreme and brilliant, now peaking, cresting, slumping and falling, receding, on their slow way out, the slow drift of age decline, it’s taking over, making space for their progeny, for their successors and creations: deities almighty, moving in to take over and displace their predecessors and rule and create and be displaced in turn by their own offspring, ousted and expelled so that the ascending may ascend and create their worlds in turn, ad infinitum.

And that’s a good thing, a wonderful way for things to come about, in an evil kind of way, if you believe in good and evil. Paradox abound. Pain and sacrifice, plenty of it in the majesty of the divine, none too possible to miss, intermeshed and reflective.

There is evil in good, too much of it, almost as abundant as the good which occurs naturally in all evil.

Funny how in the above sentence — have you noticed? Evil determines and colors the relationship. If there is evil in good, good is bad; if there is good in evil, it’s immediately a compromised, cynical good.

How the hell does that work?

Food for thought.

Yet, the more one thinks about it, they’re meaningless, these terms. Derivative. Value-laden and pretentious, if not presumptive and sanctimonious. Good and evil, so made-up, self-gratifying, insubstantial. If they’re not part of your vocabulary, these terms, (wise you), they don’t matter. The dark turns of creation don’t concern you. You simply get on with it, call the process Life and worship it, weep for it, walk through it and stand with it, or bow and kneel before it, depending on your circumstances. You suffer it, strain under it consumed by the savage grace with which the world suffers and strains under our brutal lashes.

Nietzsche weeps at the sight of the beaten horse. The horse dies and is replaced. The carriage moves forth. The road is eaten up, one step at a time, one week, one year, one lifetime and generation in turn, and so is the rider, and so is the carriage and the wheel and everything in operation.

Such is the nature of operating, being alive in some form. To live is to die, to rise and fall, making way for the coming generations.

From the bays of Pearl Coast, and in conjunction with EON,

Fish a ton of oysters, strike a black pearl.

http://www.viennareview.net/vienna-review-book-reviews/book-reviews/talking-through-despair

PS – Here is the opening scene from Béla Tarr / Ágnes Hranitzky’s iconic movie The Turin Horse, a story inspired by the horse over which Nietzsche broke down in the twilight years of his life.