You give yourself to him

I seem to be happier these days. I’m not sure what had happened to me to make me happier; to make the things which I see more spirited and worthy of appreciation. I suppose it came upon quite gradually, so I wouldn’t know precisely the source of it. But as I say this, as I say that I am happy, I am not sure if this happiness will last. It is always so fleeting. And then for no reason, I am upset again. How powerful moods are – how capable of overturning your entire world in a single night, and without your realising what has occurred. Nevertheless, I shall try my best to remain happy. I find that even when I’m happy, I am able to write; and even ideas seem to come to me quite easily. Still, how much I dread talking about my happiness!

Some books I ordered arrived yesterday. One of them is subtitled: How to become what one is. If only I knew how to become who I am, I wouldn’t be complaining so much about the future and about what I am doing now. A study of philosophy seems to me the most selfish of all studies one can engage; for what good has philosophy done for anyone other than give them more questions, which perhaps they could have thought about themselves? Philosophy is about finding answers for oneself – or not even answers, since philosophy has hitherto furnished none, but questions – questions upon questions, an endless series of questions to with which to while one’s life away!

I find so little reason in praying now. Even in those harrowing times, I do not feel motivated at all to pray. Prayer has become something of past; I see no purpose in it anymore. What I do if the times are troubling is cry. And after the welling the tears, I collect myself and try to rationalise the pain away. I try to think about the ephemerality of happiness of and of life, and how it must be. I try to see the good in the frames of grey and black. There is no reason to pray. If God exists, and if we truly are his creations, then he would have given us the tools to meet with these difficulties which life so often present us. Human reason; that is whom we ought most to pray to – for it is within human reason that a god most probably lies.

Yesterday again, I dreamt of being back at the office. There was some sort of celebration being had, and everyone was dressed nicely. Could I not have felt any more disgust at the opulence?


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