Transcendence and Decay

by | Apr 15, 2015 | Faith

Small minds can no longer prosper. They must transcend, rid themselves of unjustified thoughts, or else they will decay.

In order for small minds to transcend, this realization must be made: A person cannot be robbed if he is willing to let go of everything he holds dear. A person must cease to own or to possess.

How do you unshackle yourself from ownership? Simple. You acknowledge the truth: You are a slave to what you own. It dominates you, not the other way around. So let it go and be free, for only in freedom, apart from the things by which you define yourself, the paint you lather upon yourself before you rush screaming off to war, can you know who you are.

This is transcendence, and this is what transcendence gives you: the rights to nothing, thus everything.

Small-minded people might wonder what the point of transcendence is. Perhaps they feel they have already transcended—-or would insist such, if questioned. To both I say only this: Nothing strong shatters at once. Only a tree with a rotten trunk will fall down due to a single gust of wind. So if you feel unsteady in your treefort, if you feel the floor waver, allow for the possibility that nothing is wrong with you except that you are loyal to a rotten tree and that your risking your life is as noble and admirable as it is feeble and pointless.

Let go of what you own. Be free. Transcend. Find a new tree and build something there.

Can a tree be saved from decay? No, but decay can be postponed, and tactless words can be deleted, cruel thoughts can be omitted, and sincere apologies can heal the wounds wrought by thoughtless rants.

Nothing can be undone, but we can always return to life and live the truth within the lie. We can admit we were wrong, but only if we’re willing to let go of the thing we hold most dear, the master who lashes us most brutally: that nasty human need to know, to be right, to be correct at the expense of others.

This is the first thing we must let go of. This is where transcendence begins.

Ah! I can hear your laughter. I’m amused by how bitter it sounds.

“You’re a thief,” you tell me. “You have stolen these words—-all of them!—-so we’re going to take you to court, and the judge there will give you the harshest sentence money can buy, (so to speak.)”

Now it is my turn to laugh. Yes, I have stolen these words, and I would happily steal them again. Indeed, I’ve stolen many times, and I’ve evaded arrest for so long because I’m the rarest thief of all, the one who steals only books. But know this: I looked my victims in the eye before I snatched their belongings. And know this, too: In return for my treachery, I have received only gratitude. “Thank you for releasing us,” my victims gushed. “Thank you for taking away these paperweights. Now, unburdened, we’re free to make some more.”

So go ahead and send me away. Lock me up with misery and her reprobates. I’ll simply show the dregs of society how to transcend. I’ll do what you never could (or would) do—-I’ll do away with evil! And we, the condemned, shall build a new land where people only transcend!

So fear me, your prisoner, your charge, your most recent acquisition; with the bad men gone, you’ll never be good again!

In my dream there is only discord then discussion, restitution then relief. We argue over breakfast and smile during dinner. At night we sleep peacefully; come morning we wake without question, drink coffee, then we head off to the barricades again to disagree.

Everyone is happy. There is order because there is chaos. We accept the world for what it is, not what it ought to be. That is true transcendence.

Your only possible rebuttal to this world would be to conquer it and to condemn chaos in this, your new colony, and to imprison those of us who disobey, whose opinions differ from yours, whose words slash your trunk and reveal your decay.

And I encourage you to do so.

Your decision to enslave us will anchor you with us to the black hole of decay, and perhaps there you will finally listen as I tell you what transcendence means, and we will be cohorts in freedom or we shall witness time cease forever.

Howdy. My name’s Justin Volker, and I’m a freelance writer from Kansas City, Missouri.

Those of you who have read Randy’s mission statement about this blog network will be aware that, in both ‘faith’ and ‘narrative’ posts, some writers will challenge or conflict with the theistic position.

I shall be one of those writers.

If you’re curious about my beliefs and desire clarification, well–I’m rather agnostic about a lot of things, but I do enjoy discussing religion and the place of religion in the life of the individual and in the spiderweb of society. Perhaps in the process of contributing to this site, I will come to an opinion more definite than that, but for now, this is all I can say.

I hope you enjoy reading what I write. Thanks.

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This is a blog for challenging assumptions, building faith, and developing a stronger community. The two channels of this blog – Faith and Narrative – push us to know ourselves and the world around us more intimately. Want to learn more about us?

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