The fables of my ancestors do not satisfy me; they are only mirrors without answers that reflect our deep ignorance. They either present a scenario full of puppets created to serve and give meaning to the existence of a creator who is more lost than his creatures; or in the other extreme they present a universe without meaning where everything is just an accident.
The promises of enlightment given by institutions and self proclaimed knowers of the truth in exchange for my freedom, my sense of wonder and my money sound a bit conspicuous to me.
I walk, my legs move and I believe I control them; but, do I? If I do, just like my breathing or my heart beating, I don’t know how I do it.
I recognize the miracle of witnessing a birth or the sublime beauty of a flower. At the same time I fear and despise the ultimate fate of the ones I love which is pain, disease and death. I watch the sky and the vertigo of the infinite emptiness is the only thing greater than my solitude.
I feel horrified and at the same time joyful to be part of this mystery.