I struggle not to live in a Gnostic myth. I sometimes think that if the God of the Old Testament existed, he was essentially an incompetent, ill-tempered babysitter left to mind us till we should be ready to meet the real God.
The truth protects itself. Mind is thesis; chaos is antithesis; cosmos is synthesis.
Consciousness is a direction.
What is the significance of my insignificance? What are we here for? Is it for something we must do tomorrow, next week, next year, in a thousand years–someday? If we are here for a purpose, if we are here for a reason, it isn’t a purpose to be fulfilled in some indefinite future. It must be something expected of us as soon as we are capable of making choices. It must come after the terrible knowledge that is the loss of innocence, if it comes at all. Once we are privileged to be innocent no longer, we are expected to fulfill our purpose: to play out the proper Tarot card, the apt symbolism of all our moments; all our choices.
When we try to see ourselves as we are, to know ourselves, we have to remember that if it’s never somewhat painful, then it can never be fully true. There is the plumb line to measure straightness: the suffering accompanying honest self knowledge.
Don’t listen to those who say regret nothing. Treasure your regrets. They are the cold coin of learning.
Some people are just fear in tandem with appetites, nothing more.