Some days I am pantheistic and sophist. I believe not in truth, but in quality, not in the true, but in the good. That we are all alive, that we are all one life, that the universe is breathing, and that we are it’s breath. That there is no history, no past, no future. Nothing but one giant living organism, of which we are part. An organism that is not facist, that changes, that makes place for what is good. On those days, I believe in the good.
On other days, things are more difficult, and I become a gnostic. I know what I know. And what I think does not matter. And what I know is that there are two gods, that is the only explanation.
There cannot be only one. Because there is a lot of pain, and a lot of hurt, and this world is not perfect, and the god who created it cannot be perfect, cannot be this cruel. Cannot have caused all this pain. All this famine. All this war and starvation.
On those days I believe the manicheans, and the gnostics, I believe that there are two. One higher, and the other lower.
The higher is the one I trust, he is the one who is good, he is the one who is trying to help. Trying to make things better. Trying to make us hurt not quite so much.
The lower is the one who is closer to us. The source, perhaps, of the pain. Or maybe the one who is simply powerless to reduce the pain. Powerless to heal, a creating, but not a healing god.
On those days I believe I belong to the higher god. That I am one of his children, and not of the lower god. That we are here to help the higher god heal this world. Becuase this world and its people are screaming. And they have been screaming for thousands and thousands of years.
On those days, I know truth. And the truth that I know hurts.