This madness of believing

Modifié le : 2021/10/23

Flan­nel sol­diers, maple sug­ar zealots, white berets, caps against a wall, a mete­orite, some­times, would crush you that your cal­lous waters would not form any lava, your bone tub­ing no coal, let alone a diamond.

Your zealot’s tongues do not water any soil, dry as you are. Where is hid­den this soul that your burn­ing bush­es promised you ? Did they real­ly promise it to you or did­n’t you just dream it ?

I don’t under­stand these cer­tain­ties made of card­board, even marsh­mal­low. I’m sur­prised at your gos­sip faith. How dare you believe these road maps rewrit­ten over old delu­sions that all promised par­adise ? You cling, faith­ful, to some­thing that escapes you, tran­scends you, and because you are igno­rant, you shout even loud­er to hush this silence that would break through the most opaque of eardrums.

When you min­gle with the love of your species, you are for­giv­en for your reg­i­men­tal coquetries, but when your only actions are to mix the blood of your neigh­bors with your land, when you mis­in­ter­pret the true nature of wom­en’s sex or the can­did impuls­es of the heart, you have only one desire, that of bind­ing your words behind your back.

There are bat­tles, of course, that sci­ence expos­es every day. There are suf­fer­ings, injus­tices that only seem to exist to jus­ti­fy an absurd real­i­ty. The sci­en­tists reveal to us the immense arms of Shi­va-Natara­ja who, since a spark of rea­son ignites our brains, smiles at us with her smeared lips and her neu­tral gaze of implaca­ble violence.

A comet, I tell you, a black hole, a bouil­l­abaisse of super­novæ, repeat­ed dis­as­ters hang from your nose and you pre­tend to affirm that your gods are unal­ter­able pow­ers, that your par­adise, your celes­tial vir­gins haunt your log­ic and that only you pos­sess the answer, the key, the jack­pot to the Lord. You think you under­stand the Infi­nite because enlight­ened or mad­men have opened their souls before you by goug­ing their eyes out. It’s cer­tain­ly impres­sive, but it’s only blood.

And what do you real­ly think the Uni­verse does with us ? Does it have a word, to begin with ? Did he hon­est­ly admon­ish you once ? Does­n’t it sim­ply move atoms in its immea­sur­able com­plex­i­ty ? What do you have to wor­ry about what I do with my ass when the self­ish­ness of Men has been rap­ing the Earth and the Oceans for ages ?

You lis­ten to noth­ing, you chant, anguished, agi­tat­ed, upset, you bend from holy pains, you anes­thetize your­self with promis­es that are more vague or play­ful than oth­ers. You are no more valu­able than athe­ists, suf­fer­ing from agnosia, who have the reflex of invok­ing com­mon sense.

I hear you call­ing me Job, snub­bing me, defend­ing my inac­tion and my lack of courage, that my injus­tices are well worth yours. I will not argue with you. I only ask you to look at the bat­tle­fields of his­to­ry and the present, to hear and notice above all that human good­ness is not clothed in any­thing, that it is naked like desires, that it is in its serene patience the only answer wor­thy of being qual­i­fied as divine.

I’m ask­ing you for noth­ing more than to love each oth­er and make peace. The world is a jun­gle, the harsh the­atre of a Dar­win­ian bal­ance and it is only hand in hand, heart against heart, joy for joy that we will achieve calm, hap­pi­ness, this one and pow­er­ful balance.

Stop fight­ing for a piece of fab­ric or charms. Show politi­cians that your zeal for life will not tol­er­ate any rules. But you must also give up arms and weapons your­self. You are no longer chil­dren. Have the can­dor of an adult and present a danc­ing look ! Inno­cence can only be lived in full knowl­edge of the facts, with­out naivety and child­ish dreams. Turn to the road trav­elled, this road of tri­al and error. Dance ! Dance ! Espe­cial­ly when you cry. Your body knows much more about exis­tence than your books declared holy by peo­ple we can’t remem­ber who. Evo­lu­tion on Earth has shaped you as you are, intel­li­gent, bold, anx­ious, pre­ten­tious, cre­ative and noble.

Do not be afraid of God, leave him to his evan­gel­i­cal silence. Mock the minarets, shave the bell tow­ers, tear down the walls, stop these laments, make a clean slate of your child­hood. Remem­ber, of course, don’t for­get this long road, some­times dirty, some­times clean like a chimera, but don’t stop walking.

A mete­or ? It will come one day. As with peace, when it arrives on Earth, we will cer­tain­ly be dead, my broth­ers and sis­ters. But don’t you see the love that already binds me to you ?