The Satyr’s Play

satyr

The Gnostics were the first in a long line of dualists; yet, rather than asking how Evil came into the world, they asked the opposite question: How did the Good ever come to be in such an evil cosmos. Whereas the ancient Greeks saw harmony and order, the Gnostics saw nothing but chaos, waste, and disarray – a realm of pure spite and horror. The postmodern discursive idealist or anti-realist will offer a third option: How did we ever conceive these strange Ideas of Good and Evil, and how did they ever get attached to the World to begin with? Stuck in the no man’s land between the abyss and the abyss: we wander in-between unable to escape the dilemma of doubts and uncertainty, so we sit on the hedgerow of the fantastic, pondering whether it is the marvelous or the uncanny that seems to lure us onward. Like comic denizens of the oscillating limits of reason we run between the poles of inside/outside ironically seeking a way out of the maze of discourse – or, as some today call it “the Kantian correlational circle,” bound to the limits of the Mind’s own cage or prison: some push it to the max from within, others to limits of the outside, all the while both are driven by forces they do not know or control, tendencies that pull them hither and thither in a comedy of fatal strategies.

We ponder the political dualisms of progressive or reactionary defiance in our time as if they were the dark and violent harbingers of things to come. Like “two pit bulls before the gates of hell” they tear and rend each other to shreds not realizing the game is up and they are both twined victims caught in the mesh  of a sadistic and impersonal universe of dark ecstasy and lust that neither knows who are what they are; nor does it care whether we win or lose, or how play the game: it has its own game, and it is not human. We are insignificant gnats on a slime ball floating on the edge of a particularly diminished spiral galaxy on the edge of nothingness… the nothing that is and the nothing that is not. Whatever is in the unfathomable distances of this vastation is without human meaning or value. All gods or myths were mere defenses against our loneliness in a universal graveyard of dead stars. When the last star dims and goes out there will remain only dust traveling in a blacker than black abyss of night. To where? To nowhere…

Living in a blind realm of infinite force plying our games upon the formless complexity of a realm without beginning or end we seem to think we’re special, exceptional – the favored of gods of fate. As if freedom were just another word for infinite power we blindly move forward seeking advantage over the world and our own kind without realizing we are constructing our own hellish paradise on planet earth, digging the graves of our children’s future today. And like the ancient Greek’s and their theatre of cruelty the only resolution to a night of tragedies is the Satyr’s Play, the gambols of comedy and ridicule, of sacrifice and jubilation, of bloodletting and war to bring in the morning Sun… in such a world only laughter stirs the blood to light.

7 thoughts on “The Satyr’s Play

  1. hmmmm interesting, i think i need time to ponder this some more. you have an amazing writing style and i look forward to sifting through your pages over the next few weeks/months 🙂 thanks for sharing and take care friend

    Liked by 1 person

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