One is unable to enjoy reading a book in a coffee shop knowing others are working to survive, because he is stricken with guilt and a lingering imposition of shame upon his inactions. A child feels no such anxieties as she plays in her pram; these feelings are imposed by external forces.
A Pagan mind will decry a slothful life tempo as contemptible, for his answer to the fleeting temporality of life is to seek glory with deeds that matter to him, always anxiously working against the clock and the hand of fate, to pack his life full of achievements, thereby earning immortality in this life, before he dies.
The Christian mind tut tuts disapprovingly at the sensual hedonist sipping his americano and would deny him peace by criticising his lack of agape toward others. Where are his selfless acts of charity for the benefit of mankind? How dare he waste his life when he should be out spreading the Gospel; feeding the homeless, or contemplating the nature and wisdom of God through a monastic life in prayer?
The latter brims with seething resentment and envy against the good fortune of the non-suffering coffee sipper, while the haughty pagan hides his terror of extinction by making himself busy mythologising his every moment. Neither can abide an attitude of indifference toward their neurotic, quixotic compulsion to justify their lives with 'carpe diem' or 'an honest day's work'. Though philosophical opponents, both pagan and Christian are seeking eternal rewards by their efforts, and resent those who seem to have the prize without suffering for it.
Fine, they say, but do not expect us to help you when things go wrong for you. As of course they will eventually, as all life is a zero sum. Is this not, therefore, a reason to act hedonistically in the meantime? You already castigate the Christian to expect no help, for suffering is his practice and martyrdom ought to be his ideal. And you implore the pagan to desire no help, for outside assistance signals weakness and incompetence, and would deplete his glory.
The hedonist expects no help simply because he knows the people around him are already either indifferent or hateful, hoping for his destruction anyway. Humans love to look up to avatars of achievement, but they secretly despise the success of people they know in real life. People love happy endings for themselves, but they desire tragedy in the lives of others.
The hedonist is more honest; he invites criticism simply by allowing all to see he has no interest in playing the games that others expect him to join in on.
True enlightenment is to place oneself outside of both paganism and theism, they seek to invade and overlap his mind with hostility and envy, like some vicious Venn diagram. Those qualities that impose themselves upon us as virtues are complaints in disguise, demanding one pull himself down to their level of personal dissatisfaction.
We all die in the end. Whether what we do in life echoes in eternity is either a great mystery or a resentful slogan. Why bother giving any energy to it all?
Now I'm going to Clorox and scrub off the mildew on my father's porch tiles. Not because the day is young, or to do a good deed, but because I get off on huffing bleach fumes. Yo ho ho.
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