Good and evil, right and wrong, are such subjective concepts. As I wander through the labyrinth of ideas and fears — fears that fester and breed an echoing silence, a paralyzing torment within me — I find myself haunted. Haunted by the certainty of my convictions and the doubts that shadow them, by the ease with which they blend into one. When you truly reflect on life, when you immerse yourself in diverse cultures and religions, when you witness humanity in its full spectrum — its kindness and cruelty, its neglect and care, its beauty and darkness — these ideas become even more daunting, more paralyzing. There is no absolute right or wrong, no definitive good or evil. We reside in a world inherently devoid of meaning.
And yet, it still matters to me. I still ponder. My own sense of morality flickers like a flame facing the tempest of my fears. I've always been terrified of these fears — our willingness to leap off a cliff at the mere sight of a frog. Such trivial fears can easily usurp our rational minds and moral compass.
"Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration." — Frank Herbert
Why confront these fears? Is it worth it? Why not let them simply obliterate us? They have, after all, ravaged the world around us. Yet here I stand, perhaps broken; but not destroyed. My responsibility lies in adhering to my own moral code, navigating this labyrinth with a semblance of integrity and truth. Despite my apathy towards this indifferent world, I feel an inexplicable debt to it. I'm unsure what I can offer, apart from my words, my doubts, my journey, and my hopes.
"Words are events, they do things, change things. They transform both speaker and hearer; they feed energy back and forth and amplify it." — Ursula K. Le Guin
And so, I read, and so, I write. Each word is a dagger, piercing me with immense loneliness. Yet, one moves on, continues through the motions. No matter how passive one becomes, there's a limit to the inaction your mind can tolerate — especially if you're someone who cares, who reflects. You delve into your own thoughts and the wisdom, or lack thereof, left by others. You discover something that resonates, your own moral compass. Perhaps the only thing you can do for the world is to allow it the freedom to self-reflect, to evolve, or not.
Sometimes, you have moments of enlightenment and naturally, you wish for the world to share in your revelation. But perhaps true growth is recognizing that not everyone needs to follow your path, your growth, your pace. That, no matter how convinced you are of your truth, it is not necessarily everyone else's. And even if it were, you have no right to impose it on others.
"To learn which questions are unanswerable, and not to answer them: this skill is most needful in times of stress and darkness." — Ursula K. Le Guin
A solitary girl, scared and alone, wanders around the streets of a desolate world. Suddenly, someone extends a hand, leading her through the encompassing darkness. More and more people join, they go through this grim world, but their touch, a whisper of beauty in the gloom, transforms their path. Somewhere ahead, something shatters and the sound startles them all. They let go, once again they are all alone, lost in the overwhelming dark. Now, they wonder... will there ever be another hand to hold in this silent darkness?