Where Do You Even Begin?

I've been thinking a lot recently, about all the things I haven't thought about in a long, long time. Things that make me wonder if I'm all thought, and no action.

You see it's not that I feel pulled. I know what that feels like. This is not it. This is, well, what is this? It's apathy, I suppose, parading as a lack of empathy- which means it's not really pretending at all.

Che. Tutu. These names swirl around in my head like a problem waiting to be solved. Where do you even begin to solve a problem that never began?

It's so difficult because, of course, we were always part of the problem. How can we fight against suffering if disorder is mother nature's way? Gravity will only let you rise so high. Electricity will only let the light burn so long. Your heart will only let you love so much.

So why try at all?

It's a subtley ill-formed question. It supposes there is a something, a reason.

What about the question: Why not?

Have we any reason to believe we shouldn't continue on with this life? That we shouldn't give all abandonment to loving, and raging against all that suffering in the world?

You keep telling me that your God gives you answers. Reasons. And that is fine. No doubt he/she does. And why should those answers be any better? Why should those reasons be any less subject to doubt?

I don't need a reason to live, I need a reason not to live. I need a reason not to love. I need a reason not to laugh. I need a reason not to wonder what the world would be like if people hurt just a little bit less.

Go ahead. Give me a reason. But you don't have one do you? Because you believe in all those 'reasons' you've already told me. Damn, ain't that a quandry. If you tell me I don't have any reason to live, you are negating those very reasons you hold so tightly to. So you have your reasons, and I have my 'lack of unreasons'.

So what do we do now?

We take a trip. We leave our safe little world behind. We spend every moment of our lives daring the world to give us a reason not to keep going. And when it does, we pick ourselves back up and spit in it's face. That's not enough of a reason not to live. Not to rage.

Are you really telling me that if someone told you that this was all there was, that you would be forced to conclude that there is no reason to keep going? If this is all there is, isn't that even more reason to keep going?