To try my best at the game of sincerity, I can confidently say that I woke up this morning with a sort of lust of life, a strong will to ‘live’, as they say. This doesn’t mean I enjoy life—I do, however, recognize my very lucky position within its tight confines. I’m winning, health is wealth, yes.
Of course pure happiness was never for me, that’s a ridiculous proposition, an honest perspective of whimsy and joy would be preposterous. There’s the opportunity for some form of contentment, though, and lately I can see myself beginning to grasp it. Regardless, there also exists within me a pure, terrifying knowledge that this will one day all end. The more I consistently realize that, the more I confront it, the better everything gets. Structure and authority are such necessary illusions; death is the main authority that governs the structure of life. We can get somewhere.
In leviathan, Hobbes discusses how physical and mental protections (arts, scientific advances, handheld vacuum cleaners) are the only justification humans have for leaving the perpetual, depressing, animalistic state of war and nature — a state of war toward others and oneself, a dangerous yet beguiling oneness with the natural world that we’ll actually, for better or worse, never get back. There’s another thing Hobbes forgot to mention, love, both familial and romantic, which, if it can exist, and which, I’m strangely lucky to have both of, can serve as the ultimate protection; a sort of peace.
Today’s a good day, I think.