Saturday, April 14, 2007
The Hopeful and for Whom We Hope
Kurt Vonnegut has died. We have lost another one who hoped.

These days, I am living as the philosophical equivalent to a dodo bird. Exultant in my stupidity, I have forgotten all about hope. The reason to do what I do best--write poorly. Many times, I have harkened back to the dreadfully accurate words of Allen Ginsberg:
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix
While Ginsberg wrote for the beat generation, his words apply to this maddening generation of post post X'ers. We have bypassed heroin for something better, something more applicable, something safer--apathy. The Boomers were the parasitic joy of the twentieth century. They sucked their hosts dry, and left the land and people dark and hopeless. Instead, we crave technology to support our hollow souls, and have forgotten the truth of the world. We are starving, Allen. We are hysterical. And we are naked and vulnerable to what comes next.

Unlike me, there are those who have decided entropy is absolutely dawning on us, and they have decided not to hope. I do not chastise them, for they have the courage to think everyday that all is past salvation. And they persist. It is a conversation between an athiest and her world. She is truly able to forsake a faith made of cotton candy wisps, and decides to embrace the void of God. She is Without. Many of my contemporaries have grasped this, and continue to live and work and play.

But then, there are us. The hopers.
Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.
-Kurt Vonnegut
Kurt Vonnegut and his satire displays such hope for the world, that in amongst the most dreadful atomic wars and most conflicted and insane individuals, there is a morsel of hope for humanity. All over, these hopers keep lifting their minds up and impart to the world what it means to dwell Within. I could list them: Socrates, Plato, Julius, Alexander, Jesus, Buddha, Hamilton, Jefferson, Luther, King, Parks, St. Theresa, Ghandi,Arvo Part, Vonnegut, Rahner, Kant...but you know these and many, many more.

When we have the courage to be Within or Without, we are stronger than our histories. I am terrified of the world and heart-broken by it. But I am hopeful for it. Whether you are or you are not, you must also love it. Decide on its state. Allow ice-nine in, or flush Lake Erie, or stand at the edge of it all and watch the truth of things and the blinding wings of angels beat at your face. But do not be a dodo. The apathetic are the worst among us. If anything, we must hope to exfoliate these from the Universe. As Kurt said:

Who is more to be pitied, a writer bound and gagged by policemen or one living in perfect freedom with nothing more to say?
Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
November 11, 1922-April 11, 2007
Written by FRITZ
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Name: Fritz

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    What I Live By:
    We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, unremembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall And the children in the apple-tree Not known, because not looked for But heard, half-heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea. Quick now, here, now, always— A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one. -T.S. Eliot "Little Gidding"

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