House of Mirrors

Everybody's talking at me

I don't hear a word they're saying

Only the echoes of my mind

People stopping, staring

I can't see their faces

Only the shadows of their eyes

― Harry Nilsson, Everybody's Talkin'

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"My concept of hell, I suppose, is being stuck with myself for ever and with no way out."

― Rowan Williams

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Dear Kate,

What is the biggest human misery?

I say, to be left with oneself, no one to talk to.

And I don't mean having no one to go to coffee with you, though it would necessarily mean that too.  Simpler than that: I mean literally having no one to speak and listen to, no one to understand, no need to be understood.  That would solve our Facebook problem, wouldn't it, having no face on this earth but your own?  It's probably a world with no mirror too, lest we confuse the speaker with the listener, when in fact neither is neither.

What is the second biggest human misery?

I say, to be left with only human beings to talk to.

And I don't mean having no one to spill coffee on you, though it would necessarily mean that too.  Simpler than that: I mean literally having only human beings to speak and listen to, everyone to understand, no one to be understood.  That is our Facebook problem, isn't it, putting a face on ourselves to answer to all the faces on earth?  It's a world of only mirrors, endlessly self-referential, something-for-you-that-is-really-all-about-me.

No one can prove God exists.  (No one should either: for the proof will only be that God doesn't because He can be proven.  No one can prove my mother is my mother, before or after the invention of DNA testing.  There are numerous grounds on which I could dispute her identity, most notably philosophical.)  But the two points I observed above make His existence necessary.

To have someone else to talk to, someone who truly knows me, truly understands, is necessary for me to stay human.  With no God, human is my Lord, and I couldn't help but be lorded over.

So, God is only a human invention, then! says a human being, endlessly self-referential, some-big-truth-for-you-that-is-really-all-about-the-little-me.  Everyday we dream up some true stuffs and proclaim the gospel of our being right while sleepwalking, praying for someone just as dozy to carry us, carry with, and carry on.  

Illusion is necessary when God is not.

Yours, Alex