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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=548115" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Chance and Geometry</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Chance and Geometry</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is a sense that all<br>the magic has fled us.<br>Weber says that intellectualisation and<br>rationality mean<br>that there are no mysterious, <br>incalculable forces<br>that come into play, <br>but rather that one can- in principle-<br>‘master all things by calculation.’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How could we think that we prefer<br>our own puny calculations<br>(So devoid of real data, <br>So luminously ignorant) <br>to that lash of random, beautiful Chance, <br>the sting of incalculable, mysterious forces<br>that care so little about our outcomes<br>except to spice up the narrative? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I ‘m sure i want more meaning than<br>an equation of<br>pros and cons, good and evil<br>the right man at the wrong time<br>the wrong man at the right time, <br>but<br>all my silly femininities and lost causes<br>blast away at the foundations<br>of my careful construction.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, I thought I’d<br>mastered all things by calculation, <br>added and subtracted<br>my failures and successes, <br>weighed up the possible outcomes, <br>come up with a sum<br>I could live with...<br>Tidy sums.<br>isosoles triangles<br>E=mc 2.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>This morning finds me once again<br>on my knees in the floor laughing or crying<br>for want of the mysterious<br>that once guided my life so<br>deftly.<br>God or<br>Love or<br>Destiny. I’ll admit it, <br>I’m addicted to Chance.<br>‘Fuk it’ I pray.<br>Fervently.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Unwilling to let the decisions<br>make themselves or<br>throw up my hands in the face of the undeniable<br>truth<br>that<br>you don’t love me<br>anymore.<br>Let the devil have his 10 minutes of fame<br>where the consequences of my loving you <br>fall fully across my back.<br>‘40 lashes save one’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">isn't’ that the sentence that Jesus took on back<br>when reason feared the incalculable mysterious? <br>Whipped like a puppy because<br>He loved us too much to accept our decisive<br>‘piss off, Jesus, you’re doing my head in’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(We say, “I mean, He’s a lot of fun at parties, but He’s so intense’<br>We say, ‘ It’s the way He finds a meaning in every little lie we tell ‘<br>We say, ‘Hey, lighten up, God, would you? ’) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when He persistently, insistently<br>continues to love us, <br>mercilessly generous<br>and not caring that we are complete shits; <br>we kill Him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He takes about three days to decide<br>He’s not having it, <br>uses our brutality to secure<br>us an eternal life we<br>never asked for.<br>Now we owe Him<br>exactly<br>what we previously refused<br>to give Him freely.<br>So much for calculation.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This morning in my room<br>I was empty after weeping, <br>fine as an eggshell, you<br>could have crushed me with a smile; <br>remembering how God<br>warned me that my life was about <br>to come undone, <br>asked me if I still wanted an answer to my last<br>prayer.<br>(‘heal me or kill me’, i’d prayed back then.<br>Meaning every word of it) <br>Boarding that trans-alantic flight was<br>my ‘Yes’ to Him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I bared my heart, allowed it to be<br>sliced wide open with His sabre of Chance, <br>He watched as the Mysterious ran me down with<br>this freight train of desire.<br>for you.<br>slapped me with this holy stupid Love.<br>Allowed me my useless hope<br>founded on misinterpreted prophecies, <br>left me here where the only deliverer<br>possible<br>is the One who let me fall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Left wondering if He will deliver me <br>after all<br>God knows, you aren’t going to.<br>Well. Fair enough.<br>I asked for it.<br>You know as well as I what everything<br>its cost me, <br>just as I know how it cost you exactly<br>what you’d budgeted.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now comes the healing part: <br>take this love back, God<br>-which has neither killed nor healed me, <br>shown me the light nor given me eternal life -<br>take it back<br>along with Chance and Mystery.<br>Use them for something bigger<br>if You can.<br>Because right at this moment<br>-if You don’t mind-<br>I’m reconsidering the beauty of<br>Geometry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sarita+Brown">Sarita Brown</a><div class=q>
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There is a sense that all
the magic has fled us.
Weber says that intellectualisation and
rationality mean
that there are no mysterious, 
incalculable forces
that come into play, 
but rather that one can- in principle-
‘maste..."></div>
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