/lit/ - Literature

>>15793921
Easy.

Chap 14

"[...] Here’s what I mean. What do you see, what do you feel, when you look inside yourself? Is burgeoning Sainthood in there as best you can tell? Do you sense a placid patience, a humble acceptance of your inherent unworthiness? Do you feel a serene resignation that your base wants will go unquenched? And a gratitude that it is so? Do you somehow just know that your life was meant to unfold solely in the service of God and others, to the neglect, even detriment, of your own well-being? If these saintly elements don’t reveal themselves to you in response to your inward gaze don’t despair, at least not yet.


This doesn’t necessarily mean your relegation to a brief life of anonymous toil. Because I’ll bet when you peer inside you see something else. I bet you see an impatient anger that threatens to engulf your very being. Anger that the stupid can rise, covering the talented in their wake, with only negligible dissenting cries. Anger that the sons and daughters of Dionysus are allowed to continually gorge on the blood and flesh of the cowering weak. Anger that some can drape their hearts in black robes as they toss another human away like a cumbersome bag of bones, can lock your cousin, your own blood, in a cage like a laboratory chimp. Anger that all this occurs against the unforgiving backdrop of never relenting time, the passage of which slowly robs you of your power to wield a remedy, shrinking you before every watchful eye. You feel that incipient rage right? Good because the first step is not some bullshit, new-agey acceptance that the anger exists. The first step is to bypass that altogether, pinch your nose, shut your eyes, and jump into a pool of that simmering fury. The frigid jolt on your skin will shake you alive and impel you towards action. It’s this very action I now offer you and what do I get in return? Indecision.”