L'homme et le Rocher

I do feel as a subject in relation with God’s relevance. I know my relationship with him and how profound each discovery his hand guides me to is. What I struggle with isn’t seeking help or guidance, not evading the light to which many seem to escape, but rather with holding that light closely as to be my judge; often it’s just my jury. I play a natural role in my world. I play that of the philosopher, escaping the bounds of a reality shaped by the shadows illuminated on the wall. Realizing that reality, with a collective but unspoken objectiveness, is unique for its viewer. I see many truths, many of my own truths, yet for so long was I shackled to that wall, shadows chiseling their meaning in the deepest recesses of my mind, that I’ve grown a reliability on their teachings. I’ve assumed the position of escaping the cave, only to visit when I’m met with the unknown, or to pursue the seductive dances of the apparently beautiful shadows. I’m tired. Tired not just of pushing the boulder to the top of its rightful mount, but tired of reaching the peak to be greeted with the sun painting its remarkable golden light over each verdant patch; stroking gold along the plains, between each tree, waving up as the color kisses the sea on its journey to the clouds. I’m always greeted with a view that warms my core and shorts my breath; for my physicality tread not here—there is perfect beauty. Because of what the dirt beneath my feet, the wind that whispers to my ears, and the air that so richly fills my lungs is, is enough to love all, to love Him. I see all as it intends me to see it and hope others can share in the encapsulation of warm, golden light. Tired because at the bottom, on the journey upwards as I haul the boulder up its path, hope guides me. I’m privileged to be ignorant to what’s perfect, waiting for me in its fullness at the top; waiting to default me again to hope. Perhaps if what was waiting for me at the top wasn’t so perfect, then I wouldn’t mind my endless trek. The cycle is only tormentuous when I realize hope is soon to evaporate in the presence of what requires it not. For those whose hope is never satiated, the cycle is endurable, perhaps even more worth continuing. With that said, I still prefer to reach that divine peak. Any truth is worth tasting, no matter how turbulent the journey or how small the taste. But what tends to be difficult are those moments when truth means nothing; learned truth, those past defeats of the mountain, and that to be learned seem to lose their allure and usefulness. The dark part of myself is there to “recover” what was before the errors and hardships developed in its absence. To console the scared conscious in its lapse of ability to make judgement in accordance to truth. It’s as if I lose my footing many times during the journey up that mountain, and my body demands retribution and succor; either may be found in whole at the peak, but what meaning is that to a soul that’s shed its hope? It sees hope as useless, for it never made contribution on the many journeys to the peak. That was the work of the body, the essential form. Of course, the body ignorantly doubts how essential and necessary hope is, and any attempt to convince the body is in vain. For the body and mind are one and completely distinct. They rely on each other for every action, yet they are free to grant their focus as they please, albeit by different means. So, the mind sees the goal at the peak and the body is convinced to follow, but perhaps the body has received too much punishment on this trip. It may refuse to cooperate with the mind for it seeks comfort and solace in this incredibly grueling mission. To reach the light at the peak, only to be patiently asked by the mind to endure everything again when its time to descend. I’m often left bewildered, unable to come to terms with the journey. At the peak there is all. There is pure nourishment for the mind and soul; this nourishment is almost always squandered by my body in trying times. So, what is the purpose of continuing the journey? How am I to rationalize the cycle if what awaits me at the top is often squandered in moments of weakness? My body and mind, as I’ve stated, have their own will, their own desires and truths. What I seek is a relationship between the two; not formed of a mutual exclusiveness that happens to benefit them both, but that of a shared goal, a shared truth. I hope for my body to share in the reality of my mind, to see its object, for I know the desires of my mind are actual goods. Perhaps the course that must be taken is not of convincing my body that its desires aren’t worthy. That would be as pointless as a parent deciding the truth for their child, denying them satisfaction in their child’s desires as they don’t align with that of themselves. That is only painting over a rusted support beam in the hopes to reestablish its integrity. The child will hold resentment and their desires will manifest and act in an unnecessary and grand manner. What the parent ought do is recognize the desires of the child, understand the cause of these desires, and together they must decide if it is worthy acting on. Ultimately, the parent must leave the judgement to the child and assume the role of a guiding hand rather than the brooding enforcer of a judge. I must speak to my body and understand its hardships in orienting itself with the vicissitudes of existence; why it so often seeks solace in the comforting mistakes learnt from that of a past mind, a less fit parent. The mind is what taught the body after all. Recognized the markings upon that cave wall, processed and assigned meaning to them; the architect of the reality upon which the body finds itself. It is fruitless to expect the body to abandon all presuppositions of the world to which the mind bestowed to it. The divide of the body and mind must be shattered. Whenever in life my soul (through Him) decided it best to provide a sensitivity and openness to reality, I constructed a barrier on the basis that my mind will allow for salvation singlehandedly. My body silently, resentfully, accepted this and followed my mind in its pursuits. Quietly fermenting, manifesting its true desires—to the ignorance of my mind in the most egoistic sense—my body plotted on its wishes in a profound rage. One ordinary slip on the journey up was enough to invoke a fear of isolation, a fear that none may hear its call for justice. It usurped the tyranny of the mind and cast all into despair. The pool it left us in one was that of shame, indifference, bewilderment, and held in front of my eyes foremost, the death of hope. Where I now stand is in this pool. Now on my feet, but my body still pruned. I have been granted my mind again and my body crawled into itself, recognizing mt with a remorseless gaze. My mind, in a useless attempt, tries to rationalize how the act that took place is not of the degree of which I’m aware; after all, it was an act of the body, not the mind. But that persuasion starkly contradicts what I’m sure of: the body and mind are one, the only distinction is that of which they impose on each other. Both require due attention of the same urgency and respect. I refuse to ignore the calls of my body any longer. The difficulty in this, as I’ve stated, is that the desires of the mind are actual goods and the body fails to promise that. So where must I provide the guidance, not imposition, of the mind on the body, eventually requiring some responsibility on the body to make judgement on the desires that may not be actually good. I suppose that chance may prove my ally but that isn’t enough. If a less harsh approach to judging what is to be acted on by mind is taken and my body exploits this to indulge itself on an evil, my mind will surely rush to punish my body. My body will take its punishment, become conditioned to that which is right (to the mind), and adjust. This results in the same relationship I attempted to mend in the first place. So, to what degree is the body entrusted to act in accordance with the mind? It’s unfair that the events on the earlier self of another may have been aided greater by chance, failing to fall privy to the same desires of my body that result in such thick, black turmoil. I rationalize that my mind must impose itself over my body if I’m to attain the greatest actual goods. After all, the intellect is what allows for distinguishing the good at all; my body exists to the same degree as my dog’s. In saying this, I realize that the goods of the mind, for some, lie in direct accordance with the goods of the body; whether of actual good or not. To those I salute. For their journeys up the mountain ought not create a schism between the two. There is no reason to fret for a mind that never knew hope at all. So where is salvation to be found? I may turn to faith but in my experience, faith is as philosophy; those who are called to participate in it are granted privilege as volition tends to strengthen the relationship, not form it. I’m not naturally inclined to faith, so I will turn to reason. And reason leads me to believe that I must discipline my body in accordance with the desired acts of my mind. Through shear will of the mind may I qualm the will of the body. I will never turn my back to the desires cawed by the body; I will hush these caws as my reason sees fit. Salvation of the soul, to immerse oneself in the actual, objective goods of reality, to bathe in the light of truth, is to impose these upon the will of the body. Resisting the fallacies of the material man—those desires spawned out of goods composed of the same matter as the body—allowing for reason to judge and serve as the basis for all, is the way which the soul will find frequent nourishment in what lies atop the mountain. Perhaps the nature of existence limits the body and mind to their respective bounds. Of course, aware of their reliance on each other but not fit in providing a fair distribution of satisfaction amongst them. The body will always seek its pleasures, as will the mind. They will always require one another to climb the mountain; the mind provides the purpose and the body the means. But for one to reach its desire there must be sacrifice by the other. It is to the individual to deem what’s more important.