A Few Aphorisms for you to chew on…
Selfishness, in its most modest form, is merely self-preservation. In the midst of either internal or external threat of harm or destruction, we act in our own self-interest.
The worst thing a person can do in regards to opportunity is to neglect it. Neglected opportune breeds eventual remorse.
Just as important as “seizing” opportunities is seeing them when they’re around.
A prayer is not a request so much as a man’s simple wish to be heard.
Convention is an ex post facto invention necessitated by culture. First there is being, then there is table manners.
If biblical fundamentalists/literalists are offended by the sight of gays getting married, and children being taught the facts of Darwin’s evolutionary theory, why don’t they just pluck out their eyes?
A Saint in Denial
I was having breakfast with my girlfriend the other day. I was telling her about my latest meeting with all the writers in town, how interesting those people were, and how much they seemed to really like me and appreciate my work.
“Of course they liked you, Tylor. You’re a fucking saint! How anyone could not like you is beyond me.”
Upon hearing this, I couldn’t help but spit coffee back into the mug. Heartfelt as the sentiment of that statement was, I was slightly offended to be regarded as a saint. You see, no man or woman could ever be a true saint, no matter how hard they may try. Being human gets in the way of that. After all, behind the facade of every Ma-n and Wo-man is the Hu-man. And the Hu is the essential atomic number of our Being. Behind every human, the infamous Id lurks like an insidious shadow. Just ask Sigmund, he’ll tell you.
Despite the honest belief my girlfriend has about my person-hood, I reserve sainthood to the likes of snake oil spiritualists and holy men and holy women whom I immediately distrust on the grounds that humanness is not so nearly innocent as we’d like to believe. I suppose that at the end of day, people just want hands to kiss and feet to bow down to. Not so for me. And I could never imagine being in the place of a saint, a priest, or a guru and having my hand delicately kissed or my feet bowed down to. Such things appear rather mischievous and absurd and not at all very humble, in my eyes anyway. Meanwhile, my golden halo lies atop a forlorn shelf, collecting dust. Rightly so.
The Paradigm of the Anarchist
Paradigms exist simply because humans are pattern-seeking creatures. Patterns provide a sense of comprehension and understanding, which equates to a sense of security and comfort to our human psychology. Our brains are just wired this way. Hence the invention of all organized systems — of myth and religion, of science and politics, the vast array of arts, and of simple table manners, too. Humans have a will to many things, among those many things, is a will to order. The anarchist, bless his or her soul, is a saint sent from chaos, a strident rebel against even his own will. The anarchist, for this reason, deserves our respect. His feat is like an insurmountable active volcano, climb through the ruins of Vesuvius though he may.