God is dead

…we killed Him.

espresso vibe
Caspar David Friedrich

In an atheistic and desacralised world, men thinks he has liberated himself from gods. The burden of a transcendental power has been lifted, no worshiping, no faith, no axiomatic truth. All is permitted, as Raskolnikov declared. No other judges other than the faulty and finite mortal judgement. I guess that suffices our unrest for justice.

But then again why do we feel guilty whenever we do wrong even if we convince ourselves it’s okay? One could argue that those are the society’s rules propagated through education by parents, teachers etc and those rules put a moral restrain on our consciousness . But then again, this means that everything is a social construct and, for example, murder (prohibited by the 6th commandment) is fine and one should not feel guilty.  Therefore, if  you can take someone’s life without ever getting caught, no higher authority can chastise you.

Do yo’ thang honey.

But paradoxically,  the human nature in its quest for freedom, enslaved itself with terranial stuff. Shifting from an all powerful entity, people needed intrinsically to adore something and to prosternate. Therefore we made idols from whatever we could find: booze, cigarettes, celebrities, sex, drugs so on and so forth. Idolizing the perishable instead of the perennial.

It’s all fun and games until you suffer and you feel your fucking heart being ripped out of your chest, when you wake up and there’s nothing worth living for and pounds of concrete hold your mind and body.  Craving pleasure, after pleasure but you can never fulfill this urge, because you’re looking for it in all the wrong places. All followed shortly like a counterpoint by suffering. The more intense the lust the more profound the pain.

But who gives a shit about that, at least we’re content, right? We must be if we consciously made that translation.  We must be if this brings harmony to our lives. After all we have a meaning in life, right?

In this cultural-Marxist era we consume our teen years for fickle hedonism, not being aware of sacrificing sometimes a virtual virtuous lifetime.