Only a man who has been saved can know what redemption feels like. We can all talk about it and conjecture about it, but we can never really feel it, until we have been redeemed and washed clean. Yet redemption for me is more than just that. Redemption to me would only happen when I discover that the world is like I exactly pictured it, when I conjectured it. That and when I am sure that imperfection is just detail. Of course imperfection is detail. The moon is just a ball without blemish. It is imperfection that adds detail to anything. And detail magnifies. Whatever there is that is considered imperfect and hence not worthy of inquiry, is possibly far too complex for our tiny brains and puny tools. Imperfection is god.
If things never went wrong. If there was no entropy, if there were no mistakes, if everything was perfect. Everything would be so bland then. Of course. Like this post.
Yet this post is but a rambling outpouring of a disjointed consciousness, 14 billion years in the making, the exploding stars the imploding stellar dusts, the magnetic winds, the tiny paramecium, the naughty bacterium, all have singularly conspired to bring this post to you. And to bring this post to you, they needed a medium, an author per se, for books have not, as of yet advanced to the level where they can write their own selves, rendering us superfluous and unnecessary. What would happen to us then, when we know all there to know? Won’t we become gods? Don’t we already know all there is to know? Yet we can keep learning forever. It is a viscous cycle. Define and redefine, till gods smile on you and sweet summer rains wash away the sweat on your brow.
How fucking retarded.
What then is redemption? There is justice no doubt and there is saving. So someone who achieves both justice and is saved has received redemption? Or someone who is eventually proven right has received redemption. Redemption doesn’t have a mass that it could be transferred from one vessel to another, nor it has a color so that it could be seen. How then do we know when someone has been redeemed, or even if we have been redeemed or are yet to be so.
Redemption is the absolute last moment of truth. The moment when you just know what and where everything is. This is crap.
Redemption is to live. To have lived has to have been redeemed. Redemption is the sum total of all there is, all that can be, all that wasn’t, all that won’t be.
Yet redemption is but an invented word in an invented language, in an invented semantics. What then does redemption really mean? To really mean needs a reality, a base on which we can compare and see, if our inventions are in any way close to anything.
What in the world knows redemption. There is no redemption in the world. It is just a defined word of an inferior ape. How is it more than a rather peculiar grunt of a dog?
Yet there is redemption if we want it to be there. It is everywhere and in every action. Every action redeems someone or something. There can be no life without redemption, unless as an animal. Which of the two alternatives do we choose. Is there even a choice? Are we allowed to choose. Would it make any difference. Our perceptions notwithstanding, things are the way they are, the way they are. Would there be no things if there was no one to name them? Or does a barrel full of wine, come into existence, simply because it is willed into existence? Is it only a miracle if at some point of time there was water in the barrel? Aren’t all things that we can’t do, simply things that we choose not to do? Aren’t we all too mired in sin to ever be saved? And not just today. We have always been animals who wish to be something more. Is it a bad thing? How do we wish and to whom? Who will grant our request? Why should anyone care enough as to grant us our wishes?
And if there is someone, if there really someone, what should you wish for? Is it not the most poignant question in all of history? If you could have anything in the world what would that be? And isn’t that just a tool for adults to gauge how much the kids have grown? I mean a child would probably ask for all the ice cream he could eat. An adolescent on the other hand, his answer would depend on more factors, what his elders tell him and the audience. So it so happens that an adolescent male, standing on a stage, finds himself wishing for world peace. And no he is not wishing for it because he particularly wants it, in fact, he is never really given much thought to the matter, as his life till then has been in the safe, warm, war less confines that separate periods of great strife. He is wishing for world peace in front of a bored crowd, because depending on what he wishes for or doesn’t, is going to decide if he wins or loses the debate that he has tied with some other random person.
Of course he loses. In retrospect, how the fuck can someone wish for world peace and still fucking lose? Is it because peace is now somehow clichéd? Isn’t peace something that is good to wish for and shouldn’t people win every time they wish for peace? Isn’t peace that important?
Or maybe, the other version is I think that he was transparent. His thoughts appeared in little balloons over his head in a really garish font and were totally irrelevant and meaningless and obscured all of the artwork. Since there was so little art and so much fucking text, no one really had the patience to read it. And since no one really read it no one really understood him. Or maybe they didn’t care, or maybe they didn’t like the fact that he didn’t really care for peace and was spouting it with ulterior motives as all he really wanted was to win the fucking debate. Since he wasn’t sincere about peace he didn’t deserve to win. So I guess all he really wanted all this time was a little redemption.
Redemption, I told you so, its a bitter pill to swallow.
