Wordgame: Armageddon

I like to believe that a truth isn’t a truth if it can’t be understood multiple ways and still be true. If you can’t do that with it; if you can’t twist it and shrink it and stretch it and look through it the other way, then you haven’t yet reached the truth; you still have some artifice to clear out.

So. Armageddon. Could it be true? Well, the end of days, one way or another, almost certainly. A holy war on a hill? …Dunno…maybe?

But I prefer to read religious texts as sort of codified metaphors, because, I mean, why wouldn’t you? So, I wouldn’t personally be inclined to take it at face value.

I am not, however, a religious scholar, so I’m going to veer off now, to avoid flamboyantly displaying my ignorance.

I am a fan of the apocalypse.

I’m a fan of the tower moment, when it all comes crashing down.

Let it all burn, I say.

But I’m only a fan because I have hope that they are not the end of the story. In fact, I have faith that they are not the end of the story. I know they are not. I know that they are, in fact, the beginning. That they are necessary stages of our true becoming. And you can’t fucking convince me otherwise.

Does there come a time when the righteous parts of us need to slay our sin? I’m not sure I’d say it that way. But does there come a time when we need to let our sin die? Undoubtedly. Whether that’s personal or collective; we can’t keep limping on with the mistakes of the past clamped fast to our ailing shoulders for eternity. Something’s got to give – if not our sin, then it will be us. Just natural consequence.

Either way, when it all falls, our world must be reshaped in a new image. Unrecognisable. Irrevocably transformed. If we look at it from this side, it might look like death. Or, worse; annihilation. But, maybe, if we squint just right, it could look like transcendence.

Deep and dark

I’ve been writing fairly in depth profiles for all the characters in my novel lately, because while most of them have been in development for over a decade, I’d never been especially deliberate about them, and I thought it’d be a good exercise to catch any gaps. Also it’s kind of fun.

One of the prompts I’m using is their deepest, darkest secret. For most of the characters this is fairly easy; there’s something they’ve seen, something they’ve done, that they’re not ready to share with anyone. But for my main protagonist, it’s not so clear cut. She doesn’t really have any secrets. There’s not one distinct thing she’s unwilling to tell. Maybe all she’s hiding is that she’s scared.

Coincidentally, I spent a couple of days on TikTok before I thought better of it again, and one TikTok asked me to tell my deepest, darkest secret. The one I like to break out for this sort of occasion is the time I peed myself and blamed it on a squirrel, but the truth is I don’t have any deep, dark secrets either.

…Or fucking do I?

I started thinking about it in terms of what I’m willing to disclose on this blog. Because I disclose a lot of things on this blog. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but that’s kind of the point. I push myself to reveal uncomfortable things, in an effort to pursue authenticity and integrity in my everyday life. If I own it here, it makes it easier to own everywhere.

There are lots of things I don’t disclose for concern about violating other people’s privacy. But where’s the line for my own privacy? What’s the thing I do not want to tell you? What’s the thing I dance around telling you because, as much as I don’t want to tell you, I do, so very much, want to tell you?

There is a thing – the truest thing I’ve ever known – that has been shown not to be true. But the secret is this: I still believe it.

My post-modern brain

My brain got called post-modern in passing the other day.

My first thought was what actually is postmodernism? I know Jordan Peterson doesn’t like it but I’ve never really paid attention to its exact meaning.

So I looked it up and realised it is basically extreme relativism, but even its definition is kind of relative, so..?

Yeah, okay, that’s kind of my jam. And yes, I have found myself lately talking a lot about the subjectivity of truth.

Here is where I may diverge (or maybe not, what do I know?). I think there is such a thing as objective truth, I just don’t think we’re capable of comprehending it. And I think, even if we were, it would be so abstract to our human selves that we probably wouldn’t be very compelled by it. And so, for as long as we are still humans, I think we need to make the most of our subjective truth by moulding it to fit our purposes.

Floating amidst the chaos of no one true answer, we need to lay a path for ourselves that takes us to where we’d like to go. And maybe objective facts are what we use to lay that path, but the direction it takes ultimately comes down to how we choose to perceive and use the paving slabs available to us.

It’s not that there is no meaning, it’s just that the only meaning that can feasibly matter to us is the meaning that we make. And if we don’t accept that, we’re missing out on the opportunity to make a better meaning.