The longer I live, the more I begin to suspect that the devious enterprise of human life serves only the specious interests of a philosophical “good life” rather than truly functional happiness. Even among Augustinian theists (read: most Christians), who should know better, the stark contrast of dualism creeps inexorably into our lives, and we explain it either by saying that we are better than it, or it is good for us. Our source for metaphysics in that case, however, would be derived from two distinct sources, and I posit that the concept of metaphysical self-destruction (read: sin/iniquity) in incongruous with absolutist moral philosophy like Augustine’s. What, then, of our iconography?
I told a friend that Man As Solipsist sounds eminently more reasonable than Man As Philosopher King. The governance of our passions, the conceptualization of humans as filters for the interpretation of the divine, the sort of speciation of our nature, even the communion of common humanity seems to me an elaborate joke with a setup of æons, the punchline of which you only hear when you can no longer appreciate it.
Lo ‘mperador del doloroso regno
da mezzo ‘l petto uscia fuor de la ghiaccia;
e piu` con un gigante io mi convegno,che i giganti non fan con le sue braccia:
vedi oggimai quant’esser dee quel tutto
ch’a cosi` fatta parte si confaccia.S’el fu si` bel com’elli e` ora brutto,
e contra ‘l suo fattore alzo` le ciglia,
ben dee da lui proceder ogne lutto.