“Human beings are fragile creatures. If there is any attempt to make us beyond our physical, breakable selves, we are meaning to become divine. However, as that is an impossible task, what becomes proven are even the flaws or imperfections to such ambition. Anything up, must come down, even the human who aspires to beyond his mortal self. If to see his own reflection, he must be able to stand upon a puddle. If to see what perhaps has bloodied the water, he’ll realize those he has ended to begin what will not ever last. Just as life, itself, the comprehension is to see mortality as a place to learn just enough.”– Modern Romanticism
Our connections are made through our vulnerable selves. We do not connect through anger, nor frustration. There is nothing different between the angry individual and the loud horn of a train. Both are nuisances, and there is nothing to listen for other than to steer clear of their paths.
What are tears? Broken remains of something that was once whole. Those are tears. We live, to become broken. We love, to mend those wounds in the remembrance that someone else has felt them. It is wisdom, born from healed suffering, that tells another they cannot ever be alone. It is pain that says the opposite, that the self could not be understood by another. In pain, we attempt to be strong, even in it. The only result from this, is anger. Anger is an addiction, not a strength. It is a weakness. Just as an ordinary temptation, such as sweets, allures a person to it, we comprehend that what we crave is what we are weak for.
To be understood by another means we were imperfect enough for this connection. Although, the closest a human can come to comprehending perfection is through love. Acceptance is that closeness to perfection, though still a limitation while it holds purpose for our hearts. Anything outside of knowing that humans connect through viewing open wounds, is to say that humans should be divided among more of them.
There is nothing perfect about a human. However, there is everything perfect about love. While love is perfect, as humans are not, something called “trust” will be more conditional, and more human, than love. To be trusted, not to be loved, means to be close in the physical. We allow physical closeness, as this offers us reason to also not be alone in the physical, dark room. When whom we love dies, their physical form is buried, though the love remains. When grief showers us, we are in pain only because we still love them.
A utopia is the placement of a mere human attempting to comprehend perfection. Yet, what is limited to the human creation is a system. If all a human can create is a system, with the ambition of wanting it to be perfect, then there is the flaw. It is want, not a need, and a desire more aligned with ignorance for those this ambitious individual has not fathomed. Since such a perfected system being designed would require an understanding of all individuals, anything understood upon collective information amounts to ignorance. Nothing is understood of the human, with collective means. Individualism surpasses this, though is ever only applied in the display of genuine companionship.
To go beyond the human, means to be divine. If ever a human were divine, no other would find it necessary to debate with them. A divine human would be inarguable. Merely their word, not the proof to it, would be law. That is divinity. Moreover, if a human were to reach this state, they would need to tap into the metaphysical realm. This would make them beyond the physical, breakable self of another human. Such means that they would also be indestructible and powerful enough to obliterate someone who dares to question them. They would be formless. However, this is the same as being a psychopath, since as it has been proven in history, all attempts to form a societal utopia have met their end at the hands of rebellion. If in being a psychopath, one is inhuman and not capable of understanding the vulnerability of another through compassion, the only thing beyond human is inevitably a downfall. Beyond the individual human, there is death. Beyond society, being another human creation, there is its defeat. Therefore, just like a utopia, a perfected human is also a decline from itself. The result would be psychopathy.
One thought on “Philosophy – “Why Utopias do not Work” – 10/3/2021”
and what I think makes love so perfect is that when we accept another fully, imperfections and all, we love them even more