On Divinity … Again
There are those who, seeking something in which to believe, find solace of sorts in the majesty of universal laws, although “laws” is perhaps too strong a term for something, at least perceptually, so transient. Several of my heroes have accepted such laws as their Divinity, the philosopher Baruch Spinoza for one, and of course, Albert Einstein, a most imperfect paragon, for another. But not those laws alone. For them, there was a transcendence involved as well, some sort of demiurge who for reasons unknown, set them immutably in motion, binding even it.
I have been a seeker for all but seven years of my life and I believe I’ve intuited some possible truths along similar lines. But with a very different starting point and a very different predicate. They and those who believe as they did seem to believe in a Deity that at least at some point had volition but bound itself by the rules of its creation. The Divinity I perceive would have attained sentience of some sort, but volition would, at least initially, have been beyond it.
Only a sadist I think would perceive of that as Heaven.
All but eternal, infinite, omniscient, but completely powerless. Benevolence utterly irrelevant; in fact, benevolence would prove intolerable for a divinity that could only observe the malevolence of its components. A voyeur divinity, growing and learning, as the multiverse that gave it birth evolves. Created rather than Creator. A multiverse in which, at the corner of infinity and eternity, pitiless sentient self-awareness afflicts all that was, is and ever will be.
Prometheus, chained and tortured, would never seek that end. Crucifixion would seem child’s play compared to that fate. One in which each of us plays an infinitesimal role for the briefest instant, but repeated eternally.
And what would that entity be like if it ever attained volition?
Probably not all that pleased, somewhat disturbed, very, very lonely. Very, very sad.
That may explain quite a bit.
Perhaps even, … why the worst of us almost always seem to win.
© Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2016; all rights reserved