Philosophy on a Rainy Day

Two men walked along the rocky shore of a beach on a grey, somewhat windy day. The air was just cold enough to be uncomfortable—Bearable, but uncomfortable. One of them loved the weather. It kept his mind sharp. He had lived here his entire life, and had seen many, many days like this. His reddish-brown, curled hair flew in the wind and a black scarf trailed behind him from his black jacket. The other couldn’t stand it—He was from a place where it was always warm and wet. He had made the mistake of wearing a simple set of jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt and was paying the price. As the wind swept around his brown hair, the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight as Roman pillars.

The first man picked up a round stone, turning it over in his hand and said, simply, “Next month I’m going to begin my novel.”

The second smiled and said “Duane, you’re always writing something. You know, I’ve been thinking of a novella to begin myself. I want to write about a fictional drug—I’ve been thinking the street name for it will be “Flood”.

Duane tossed the stone into the cold, black waves and paid deep attention to the sound as it made contact with the water.

“It sends you into throes of euphoria at first, like most drugs… but after you come down, you lose memory of taking it in the first place.”

“I like that. Tell me more, Kai.”

Kai went on, gazing into the grey sheet of rainclouds separating the sky from the earth. It wasn’t raining yet, but the air itself seemed to be holding its breath like a wind orchestra before the conductor’s baton falls.

“Well, my narrator obviously doesn’t remember anything after the fact… But Flood acts as a gateway for him to another world, one that’s more colorful and one that almost forces him to be more philosophical and reflective in nature. The real world would be much more dull and cynical, with colors not unlike today.”

Kai withdrew a cigarette from his breast pocket and pressed it to his lips, but kept it unlit. “A recurring theme I want to include is the concept of Faith… specifically, blind faith.”

“I see. I like that. The other day I was discussing the idea of how Faith and Belief are two different concepts; it effectively boiled down to the notion that Beliefs can be rational, such as the belief that policemen show up when you call 9-1-1. This is in stark contrast to Faith, which, by definition, is irrational: The faith that drinking a Jewish Zombie’s blood removes all wrongdoings from your conscience. We took it one step further to say that Beliefs are even necessary for rational thinking.” Duane readjusted his fingerless gloves as he finished the sentence, having momentarily forgotten that he wasn’t alone.

“Well”, responded Kai slowly, “I agree that there’s a difference between Faith and Belief. I don’t know, however, if it’s completely irrational to have Faith.”

“Isn’t that what it is by definition, though? Growing up in a Christian school, all I heard was ‘Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.’” Duane’s hazel eyes met Kai’s brown irises and showed a curious look.

“I suppose Faith itself is irrational, but what I really mean is that I don’t know if we should act by reason alone.” Kai finally lit his cigarette, and took a long drag from it. “Cold, hard logic seems like an almost inhuman thing to base your entire life on.”

“I’m with you there. I’d even say that sometimes it’s beneficial not just to act irrationally, but antirationally—That is, to do something just because you logically shouldn’t. The Chinese Daoists Laozi and Zhuangzi were all about it. ” Duane stared back out onto the waves of the lake. It was so big that you couldn’t see the opposite shore. It looked as though the lake fell off the edge of the world. “I mean, all I’m saying is that I think a little bit of faith is necessary. Everyone needs faith in something, even if they just have faith for the sake of having faith.”

“Duane, you just nailed the theme of my novella. ’It’ll all work out. How do I know? I don’t! It just will.’” Kai took another drag before crushing the half-smoked cig onto a rock, and slipping it back into his case.

“You know, that’s why a lot of Jews don’t call themselves secular, but they don’t believe in God either. That’s fascinating to me, because if they don’t believe in God, where does the motivation for morality come from? If you ask one, he might say ‘I just have faith in Faith.’”

“Well, Duane, now we’re talking about two different issues now: Faith and morality. They’re related, but not the same. It’s a big question for a Jew, a gentile, a ginger, what have you: Where does morality come from?”

Duane sighed as he readjusted his square-rimmed glasses. “I don't think Morality comes from God, I just don't know where it comes from, because I am not entirely sure that morality is COMPLETELY a social construct. Everything is pointing to the fact that it is, but... I can't shake the feeling that even if there's no such thing as ‘evil’, there is such a thing as ‘good’.”

“Morality for me is a product of cultural, social and historical context. We have morals because we live in a society that is "civilized". Where we lack morals is when we were savage. I usually prefer to think animals as equals to humans, but I must ask, do animals have morals? Perhaps they are free of all constructs, to do whatever they want. Humans on the other hand imposed a system on them, that in order to work must have morals.” Kai nodded as he thought on, forgetting the frigid temperature that seemed to be dropping further.

“Well, that brings up a few questions. Firstly, is it inherently "bad" when we're savage? In other words, should we value civilization as heavily as we do? Secondly, even if animals don't have morals, say they have beliefs, have rational thoughts, such as crows. Do we then grant them personhood, seeing as what constitutes a "person" (at least where I’m from) is the capacity for rational thought. Thirdly (and this is a question to humor my curiosity), Do animals act solely on instinct, or is there ration, or even EMOTION?” Duane seemed quite anxious to get to the crux of the issues, without realizing that they had gone almost completely off topic. He picked up another rounded stone and held it up to his eye level, inspecting it as though it could contain gold.

Kai didn’t hesitate. “Well, I think we’re freer when we’re being savage. For me, civilization is this big mess that we're stuck in that seems hard to escape. I think the Greeks valued civilization just because they thought it was “obviously better” than being one of the “barbarians”. For me, civilization is a necessary evil—Or should I say necessary limitation?”

Duane nodded contemplatively as Kai went on. 

“As for your second and third questions, I don’t really know. I think a lot of humans have this superiority complex that humans are intrinsically superior to animals, because they don't understand animals. I think animals have rationality and emotions, but in a totally different way. They needn't be granted our idea of "personhood" because they are rational and emotional "beings" in their own way. In fact, there's no need to personify other beings because that's just assuming that animals need to adopt rational thought and emotions like ours to reach our level.”

Duane interjected. “So the main issue isn’t personhood, it’s anthrocentrism?”

Kai nodded firmly. “Exactly. Humans have the tendency to assume their form to be the center of everything. It's easy to make that assumption, since you see and feel everything from your own body. The Greeks thought their polis was the center of the flat world. Christians thought we were above animals and right below Angels, but in a way we are even above the Angels because we've got Free Will! Even the monotheistic religions assume that God must take a form resembling the human form in some way!”

Duane and Kai continued their conversation all the way up the shore, until they reached a place where the shore kissed the edges of town. A small coffee shop looked inviting to the both of them, so they went inside and warmed themselves alongside tall mugs of rich, aromatic coffee.

“I mean, if you locked a grizzly bear, a Bengal tiger, and the average human male in a room, we know who won’t be walking out of there. We should have respect for animals of any kind, even if it’s a carnal, visceral respect.” Duane sipped his drink thoughtfully.

“Ever since humans have developed the capacity to kill animals without an amazing feat of strength, we’ve lost respect for them.” Kai stared out the window as rain began to tap against the window impatiently. “The invention of the gun probably did more harm than good for the human race.”

Duane smiled proudly. “If I were to ever travel, the only thing I’d carry with me for protection would be a simple bowie knife. And even then, it would mainly be for utility’s sake! Who do you think should own guns?”

Kai made a face as though he had swallowed something rotten. “No one. Why are they necessary? Even in the case of a military—Hell, if I had my way there’d be no such thing—but I don’t think even police or other officials should have guns. Judo seems more effective anyway!” He half-joked as he swallowed half of his coffee.

The rest of their meeting was passed in silence. Kai left soon after, calling a taxi to get back to his apartment. Duane sat in the corner of the shop, contemplating all they had discussed. He drained the rest of his drink as he meditated on all of the ideas.

“Are you done with this extra mug, here?” 

Duane was shocked out of his thought by the sudden question. “Uhm… oh! Yes. Thank you.”

The girl was cute, a short redhead. As she turned around, Duane couldn't help but laugh as he caught sight of her green nametag. 

Faith.

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Thanks for reading. Stay human, my friends.

The Egg

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. the EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered that you were better off, trust me.

And that's when you met me.

"What... What happened?" You asked. "Where am I?"

"You died," I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

"There was a... truck and it was skidding..."

"Yup," I said.

"I... I died?"

"Yup. But don't feel bad about it. Everyone dies," I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. "What is this place?" You asked. "Is this the afterlife?"

"More or less," I said.

"Are you god?" You asked.

"Yup," I replied. "I'm God."

"My kids... my wife," you said.

"What about them?"

"Will they be all right?"

"That's what I like to see," I said. "You just died and your main concern is for your family. That's good stuff right there."

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn't look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

"Don't worry," I said. "They'll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn't have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it's any consolation, she'll feel very guilty for feeling relieved."

"Oh," you said. "So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?"

"Neither," I said. "You'll be reincarnated."

"Ah," you said. "So the Hindus were right."

"All religions are right in their own way," I said. "Walk with me."

You followed along as we strode through the void. "Where are we going?"

"Nowhere in particular," I said. "It's just nice to walk while we talk."

"So what's the point, then?" You asked. "When I get reborn, I'll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won't matter."

 "Not so!" I said. "You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don't remember them right now."

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. "Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It's like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it's hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you've gained all the experiences it had.

"You've been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven't stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you'd start remembering everything. But there's no point to doing that between each life."

"How many times have I been reincarnated, then?"

"Oh lots. Lots and lots. And into different lives." I said. "This time around, you'll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD."

"Wait, what?" You stammered. "You're sending me back in time?"

"Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from."

"Where you come from?" You said.

"Oh, sure," I explained. "I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you'll want to know what it's like there, but honestly you wouldn't understand."

"Oh," you said, a little let down. "But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point."

"Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don't even know it's happening."

"So what's the point of it all?"

"Seriously?" I asked. "Seriously? You're asking me for the meaning of life? Isn't that a little stereotypical?"

"Well it's a reasonable question," you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. "The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature."

"You mean mankind? You want us to mature?"

"No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect."

"Just me? What about everyone else?"

"There is no one else," I said. "In this universe, there's just you and me."

You stared blankly at me. "But all the people on earth..."

"All you. Different incarnations of you."

"Wait. I'm everyone?!"

"Now you're getting it," I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

"I'm every human being who ever lived?"

"And who will ever live, yes."

"I'm Abraham Lincoln?"

"And you're John Wilkes Booth, too," I added.

"I'm Hitler?" You said, appalled.

"And you're the millions he killed."

"I'm Jesus?"

"And you're everyone who followed him."

You fell silent.

"Every time you victimized someone," I said, "You were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you've done, you've done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you."

You thought for a long time.

"Why?" You asked me. "Why do all this?"

 "Because someday, you will become like me. Because that's what you are. You're one of my kind. You're my child."

"Whoa," you said, incredulous. "You mean I'm a god?"

"No. Not yet. You're a fetus. You're still growing. Once you've lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born."

"So the whole universe," you said, "it's just..."

"An egg." I answered. "Now it's time for you to move on to your next life."

And I sent you on your way.

--Anonymous

DISCLAIMER: I did not write this. This was an anonymous work posted on an anonymous website distributed throughout many parts of the internet. This is not my work, it does not belong to me in any way. The only portions I added were the images. Beyond that, the work remains as it was written.

EDIT: After a bit of digging, I've found the author's name and the original title of this work. It's titled "The Egg" and is credited to Andy Weir.

Holy Birth

I have a story to tell.

My name is Abahu, and I'm a shepherd. I keep track of sheep that other people own. You know, make sure they don't get eaten by anything. It's tough work, but hey, it's a Denarius.

A few nights ago, my friend Achan ("AH-khan", you gotta put your gut into it.) was helping me out with a particularly large flock. It was a really quiet night. The birds weren't fighting with each other, there weren't any wild dogs around to ward off... It was odd. But the sky... Yahweh, the sky was amazing. Stars filled it like sand filled the desert. The scent of sheep and sandalwood filled the air. I loved Bethlehem.

I turned to Achan and I asked him, "What do you think stars are?"
Achan, in his typical snark, replied, "Bright. Especially tonight."
I smiled.

I almost dozed off, it was so quiet, but I knew I needed to stay awake to make sure all 142 sheep would make it through the night. I walked over to a young ewe and whistled as she trotted over to lick my hand.

Then, the sky split open.

I couldn't see. I couldn't hear. It was like the music of cymbals, drums, and trumpets was combined with the noise of thunder, the sea, and the four winds. I put my hands up to shield my eyes... My heart was about to break out of my chest. I turned to Achan as he stared, wide-eyed, at the sky.

"Abahu! What happen? Who this?!" Achan's Galilean accent always came out when he was afraid-- He wasn't raised to speak Aramaic. He wasn't a Jew, like me.

As my eyes finally grew accustomed to the sun bursting into the night sky, I saw something I never will forget. There were people in the sky. Floating. They had wings, but they weren't moving. Then I remembered something the prophet Ezekiel had written about... Were these Messengers?

One of them started to descend, and I started to sweat. What had I done to bring this upon Achan and myself? The being touched the dry ground right in front of me, and I began to kneel down and weep silently. I took a closer look at the Messenger. He had purple skin, bright white hair and his eyes had no pupils, they were just golden spheres glowing from a mouthless head. He had to have been six cubits tall, with his wings that and half again as wide. He had the body of a very feminine man... Or a rather masculine woman.

He spoke.

"Abahu...Achan. Do not be afraid." The echoing words filled the field and shook my bones. Its voice was like music that filled my heart with peace until it began to spill out of my eyes. I began to cry again, this time with joy.

"Do not be afraid. We are here to bring you news that will bring joy to you, and to all people.
It took me a moment to realize it was speaking Hebrew. Achan didn't understand. I began to translate for it as it spoke.

"Today, in David's city, called Bethlehem, one who will save you all has been born into your world. He is Messiah, God on Earth."

As I translated for Achan, my smile returned. He seemed confused. "But... Abahu... There must be more than one baby in Bethlehem. How do we know which is the right one?"

I bit my thumb. Good question. I asked the purple-skinned Messenger, in Hebrew.

"You will know from the Signs. You will find the baby wrapped in cloth, lying in a feeding trough."

I reeled. A feeding trough? Where animals eat? This thing had to be joking. My disbelief must have shown on my face, because the Messenger gave me the closest thing it could to a smile, and shimmered into a gold light that shot straight back up into the Heavens. As suddenly as it had happened, it had ended.

Achan and I were both still shaking. "Abahu, what was that thing?"

"In my language, their name means Messenger." I replied, as I steadied myself with my staff. "We need to go tell people about this. This means all the prophets of my people... They were right. This is unbelievable."

"What about the sheep?" He slowly got to his feet and fetched his own curved staff.

"I have a feeling they'll be all right. Come on, Achan. We have a story to tell."