Am I a realist or a cynic? Is there a difference? Have I deluded myself into just thinking I'm "right' about the world when in fact I am just some curmudgeon? Or maybe I'm both right AND a curmudgeon? Hmm...
So here's my definition of the cynic: Those who think, at the core, that it's ALL fucked...that there's only this one go-around in this exact consciousness, that we're not living an eternal other-existence in another reality, that nothing can ever be the same, that Gatsby was so fucking delusional to think he could repeat the past....is that a cynic? Is that a realist? Is that me? The signs are everywhere but we're in denial a lot of the time or at least most of us are most of the time. Even the cynic is - unless they're living like Diogenes on the street somewhere - it's pretty easy to get drawn in to all of the mucky-muck of the daily grind, the veil of maya, as the Buddhists call it. It's alluring for sure.
The religious, the people who truly believe in "god," probably think their faith in "god" is similar to my conviction of nothingness, that I have faith in some sort of cynical conception of godliness. That's not true (and maybe you, as the reader, will say I am splitting hairs here), but I attest to knowing nothing. I would claim that I have an utter "lack" of faith. Lacking faith is not the same as possessing faith. Lack means without, an absence of, a deficiency in, a fault. To lack some thing or some aspect does not mean it would truly exist in any one modal form (Plato was so wrong about that. But he [inadvertently, or not] reinforced a binary way of thinking on literally everyone in the Western world).
At the depth of meditation or the nadir of anxiety or even the ecstasy of physical climax, the realization of how empty everything is hits. Sure, all of those emptinesses are different and affect the feeler in various ways. Yet, all are equally void of any real substance. Think about your last great orgasm - what was there but a feeling, a fleetingness that cannot be reclaimed in that same exact way. It's pure experience. As your thoughts and everyday clutter melts away, you're left with just being and you have to be able to just accept that.
This has been said many times over in many incarnations - Jesus, Buddha, Kierkegaard, Sartre, Camus, Pirsig, Watts - and yet, to re-realize their point for yourself is worth the iterations. I know I have written about this before in previous posts, but I think I have realized two things more recently:
1. that being a cynic (without being a nihilist) is freeing. It frees the player of real heavy decision making knowing death is an actual endpoint.
2. To clarify the first point, this is not a post advocating suicide, but in actuality, one that promotes going out and enjoying life. In effect, I'm advocating more hedonism.
So whether or not Camus truly said, "Should I kill myself or have a cup of coffee?" may still be up for debate, but I'm sure as hell having another cup of coffee.
