I do not think I’m the only human on the Earth who has often wondered if, without the divine ban, Eve would have bitten the forbidden “apple”?
Probably not, definitely not! This fact it proves brilliantly that an imposed happiness is less than a chosen misfortune!
And going further, in Latin, the words for “apple” and “evil” are similar. “Mālum” is the word for “apple;” “mălum” is the word for “an evil or a misfortune.”
As a result of the apple’s association with Adam and Eve’s story, it has become a loaded symbol that represents, among other things, temptation, sin, immortality, seduction, the forbidden, and knowledge.
Now comes the question: Did we blame Eve for her culinary excess or because she wanted to overcome her ignorance status?
Whatever the answer, I find it terribly indecent.
According to Sartre, human existence doesn’t have a specific justification. There is no reason why there would be a certain thing, an affirmation that extends, of course, to the human race as well. According to Sartre, human existence has not depended on man, and the human does not know why he exists: “Existence precedes essence.”
In other words, we are exiled, thrown into this existence. Well, if we look at things from the perspective of atheist-existentialism, we have nothing to believe except that we live in an absurd world that leads to nowhere and has no one at the control panel.
Although religious and spiritual doctrines (depending on geography) postulate the immutability of something or someone under the command of the universe (perhaps universes, we certainly do not know that), and which would consequently be the omnipotent master of our destiny and who has the absolute and ultimate decision-making power, of the destiny of mankind, but not only humanity.
Personally, I really like the first presumption. Why? (Do not throw stones, not yet :)).
Because being exiled in this reality, our freedom can be absolute.
With this freedom, we become the authors of our own life stories. Our existence can gain a sense of ourselves, precisely by assuming this freedom; our life can become authentic because we are both the author and the character simultaneously. We define ourselves as identities and shape our existence through our choices or the way we respond to reality, and thus become an essence (softer or more resilient, as the case may be).
It is indeed more comfortable to invest somebody or something with supreme authority (absolute) and try to comply with the requirements promoted by “ground staff” of that or something divine. Comfortable, as I said, because if something goes wrong, we can easily blame (as the case may be): the devil, demonic energies, karma, or we can blame ourselves or our family (obviously pushed to sin by the same evil entities).
Of course, this subject is very vast and has been widely debated, divagating and philosophizing easily on its edge, as we move freely around the axis of time.
What I want to reveal is just that:
Freedom means you can choose!
Although it may seem paradoxical, we have this freedom every moment, but it is difficult (for many of us almost impossible) to bear the consequences, or in more onerous terms: “assuming freedom.”
Why? Well, for at least two reasons:
– The first reason is that few understand. Nobody can assume anything that he does not understand.
– The second reason is that, assuming our freedom there will no longer be guilty people. I mean, we will no longer have friends, that we can blame, we can’t even blame ourselves.
And perhaps above these two causes, to assume your freedom requires a great deal of courage. And this courage is somewhat greater than entering the tiger’s cage (But we can choose to look at it through the bars and wonder why).
A portion of disillusion lives in each of us, in every man or woman we love, in every relationship we are involved in or that we wanted. But there is also a dose of hope, effort, and love. The truth is that everything we are and everything that surrounds us is well-dosed. None of us is ready to love and lose oneself entirely, as no one can forget until his/her last memory or provide everything. Things happen dosed, gradually, they undergo a rigorous frame time. Today we try to build and tomorrow we destroy.
Today we can love someone and tomorrow we consider him/her our enemy.
Today we are ourselves and tomorrow someone else, because nothing is infinite in us.
Beyond emotions, beyond love and even beyond the loved ones, there are limits. Some limits we set up ourselves and some we experiment with involuntary.
But the ultimate truth is: It does not matter for whom we have set up these limits. It only matters for whom we are willing to overtake them.
“Oh, stories, stories … the whole world is a story, because once it has never been like today, and what is today it will be like never before. How many fires, candles and how many flames you the story didn’t burn, and they all have been extinguished, and many will light up just to be extinguished again. Only you, the story, you will only be extinguished with the last man … and only he will know well that this world has been a long and the same story.”
This is the beginning of the novella “Story” written by Barbu Ştefănescu Delavrancea, with his intuitive genius of the repeated and sometimes compulsive expression, of the events and life strategies, affective disposition and spontaneous reactions, the challenges and downfalls, the desires and the suffering generated by their failures. This is also the way our life story, most often in the game of forces that seem to overtake us on an archetypal scene in which we enter to play a role. We do not even realize we’re living in a simulation. We are in possession of our own feelings and expectations, which we most often think are ours. We are conditioned by parents, teachers, life partners, loved ones, and sometimes by our children. We are conditioned by the social roles we perform, by the political context in which we evolve, by the dominant cultural structures, by what is “fashionable.” We live in the dramas of our past and in anticipation of the accomplishments that will occur once in an “illo tempore,” we are captive in the terrible and repetitive game, and most often chaotic, of our own mind. All this only reinforces and confirms the story that we believe to be ours. And this “our story” will encompass us more and more, by sorrowing the life in us, it will come to live in our place, beyond us and after us, pushing us further from the being that we really are.
We are just moments, just fragments.
Just some small crumbs in a world we don’t fully understand, and from which we can only feel what we touch.
We float immutably in a sticky liquid, in which we usually feel fear, and from time to time we tangentially pass each other or an object that we have not seen, but which doesn’t scare us a lot. And we stick to it, we’re hiding there scared, and we are building a world. The world of each of us. We do not see too much beyond it.
And this blue moon looks at me hostilely, from one side. We know each other well, the moon and me, sometimes we look defiantly to each other. Each of us on their terrace. And we keep our eyes off each other sometimes. One has eyes too charged with light and glory, that is the moon, the other has her eyes full of memories. I mean myself.
It somehow resembles the bulb hanging on the top of the streetlights that light up my alley. It’s also the bulb, somehow solidarily with the moon. The bulb just does not have the light to offer. The bulb only lights up because it has to do it. It is disoriented, a wanderer, a stateless one that somehow got in my garden.
I look at it with mercy and aversion.
To shine only from inertia !? What a loss! Don’t ever rebel… to meet your days and nights in immeasurable sadness!
I look at the sky and I see it as Azure, and so do you. But to me as well as to you, the color azure is in the head, being created by the brain based on the data from the external reality.
In the objective external reality, there is no azure; there is electromagnetic radiation of a certain wavelength. Similarly, I can not deny that there is no azure, although I perceive it (or I represent it) so I can not deny it, and I can’t believe there is no “I” when I experience the feeling of self entirely at this moment. The ego is a trick, a scam of the brain. It does not have a real, objective existence. Still, we strongly believe in the reality of this scammer. That’s why we hurt or enjoy when someone, especially someone we love, labels us.
But now think a little: can azure be a smarter or stupider color than yellow? Do you believe that electromagnetic radiation of different wavelengths is hurt or excited when you call it stupid or intelligent?
I think you agree that from this perspective it’s absurd to think about radiation in the visible spectrum as better or worse than others and that you feel vexed or at the maximum of happiness when someone issues judgment of value to you (where no one lives, really and objectively!). But that’s not the case, you will say.
You really feel pain; you feel hurt, sometimes not just psychologically, but you actually feel hurt physically(e.g., it increases your pulse), when someone calls you evil, irrational or dishonorable.
I can only agree. You identify yourself with the experience of self-esteem, and a distinction between trickery and reality can only be made rationally (at prefrontal cortex level). You can’t (in distinction) feel it under your skin so to speak, just as you can’t feel the earth rotating. And yet … how would it be, if it were possible?