Theatre Of My Absurdities & perhaps everyone's

I don't claim to understand wholly my life and the point of the experiences I have managed to remember hitherto. But there are moments when I feel I am inching closer to understanding how I can accept that ambiguity and make more people confront it too, even though it is somewhat uncomfortable. Poetry was--and still is--that which has made me recognize how absurd 'it' all is, life and the myriad of inventions, both ours and not. It's not to be taken lightly, however, for it is something dismal and nirvanic and all levels in between. But it's all sort of a wild scramble towards something. Maybe time, t, will reveal some ultimate meaning--some revelation at the end of a long-forming equation. I must look to some poets to emphasize this, I feel. One of which is Babstock. Complicated, yes, but he peels back the layers of the bittersweet life-onion.

"We should be held and forgiven." But should we? When someone drives an emotional javelin into your groomed emotional terrain, can you hug them? When the atom bomb reigns godly in the sky and plummets toward a city and leaves silhouettes of death upon the ruins, could you hug the survivors and the killers in the same way? Would you hope to carry the radiation from survivor to killer? Or should you be forgiving and call it a bad mistake and move on? I've struggled with this Babstockian ambivalence my entire life. When the Father smites me for not following in His footsteps, beats me, commits to sending me to the tree-lines to chop wood, should I handout forgiveness for His behaviour? Conscience is anomaly, and forgiveness is forgetfulness , perhaps. My ambivalences still writhe within me.

"You are free, and that is why you are lost." Kafka.

"I don't know what I mean by that, but I mean it." Salinger.

I wondered why Babstock was highlighting soft determinism, but it made sense after some thought. How often I have contemplated Aquinas' arguments that the complexities in this universe are too fitting not to be an ultimate design. However, how often, too, have I marvelled at life thinking it all a chaotic state of free will and happenstance and thought it all hilariously, sadly, upsettingly fascinating. I don't know the right answer, but I prefer free will. It makes me feel worse when I fuck up, or worse when many people fuck up. I also feel better when something good happens, because it was driven by my own ambition. There are pros and cons either way. It's a matter of preference. "Is he free/who is not free from pain?"

"Everywhere man goes he is in chains." Rousseau.

And yes, we all are in chains, subtle or blatant. Babcock demonstrates this. Like the rooted sunflowers guided by their sun, rooted, yet guided. We are the sunflowers. We are rooted in our inventions and modernity and try to fend of notions of divine guidance. Are we free if we feel no pain? I don't know. We could be free in the sense that there is the alleviation of all things bad, but are not then chained to the state of abstinence? Would you feel the glory of that state? Once you sign up for that, could you see yourself enjoying perpetual unbad? What merits lie in that direction? Would you offer up your struggles in favour for this? I wouldn't. But perhaps that's an addiction I refuse to give up.

Babcock suggest atomic destruction and the obfuscation of our sun because of our scientific advancements. When the clouds fill our atmosphere and we smoother from our vaporous equations, where will you look then? Will you blame it on our choices and poor leaders? Or will it be viewed as a rapture-like event? Babstock highlights this paradox. At the end, do we forgive when it's too late for recourse? Blame and praise. Two delicate forms of condemnations not to be dished out without half-ass thinking. But we trod that line too carelessly and what is the result? Stay tuned.

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