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Self-reflection: Conversations with myself

what is really going on, yet still put one foot in the fire for the thrill of it. When it starts to burn, they stumble back to the herd.

Those who pursue the meaning of Existence on a full-time basis might understand Existence some day, but it's too late to do much about it by then. One might insist that sour is sweet. Another might moan and groan. The wise man might speak of the consolations of philosophy. Of the merits of dying in advance of the fact, then smile and say good riddance to the world. It has taken him so long to become wise that he already has both feet in the grave. Death redeems him from diabolical alienation; for facing Existence is like looking evil in the face; even a glimpse of Existence is an appalling view of a real horror show.

Plenty of casual thinkers do get a peek at the Horror of horrors when they imitate wise old men for a few entertaining hours; violence does have its morbid attractions. Nevertheless, most peeping necrophiliacs hide their faces from the blinding Sun lest they realize too soon the scorching brunt of the absolute truth about themselves and be relieved of their apparent command over the situation.

No, we are not responsible for the System; our reforms are merely virtual tweaking of the status quo; radical reform spells revolution and death. Nothing can really be done about Existence. In the final analysis, nothing returns to Nothing, and nothing can be done about Nothing. The alienation of separate, relative human existences, of Existence, is illusion, is virtual, is almost but not quite real.

Really, there is no real Existence, so why suffer by false analogy the anomalies of time and space merely because we physically exist? Therefore may we avoid the alienated individual freedom of the dead end of existentialist thinking. Progress has taken its inevitable course to the end of history. God is dead. Nature is dead. Existence is dead. May Existence rest in peace.

Learn more about this author, David Arthur Walters.
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