It's the ordinariness of trash day that returns a pompous ass to the nitty-gritty of day to day. And tomorrow is yet one more happy opportunity to participate in the workings of a fulfillment center, where my halo is not quite tarnished by a set of rules that includes disciplinary action for being "one minute late." While the earlier thinkers in the period of industrialization began to wonder what it was that would replace God in the existential, those who came later began to consider the idea of 'possibilities.' They were of course by then even further removed from the monastery of "one minute late" and much more engrossed by the alternatives to "one minute late." An insight, I have no doubt, was gained from watching Chipmunk or Butterfly or water coming to a boil and seeing physics.
I'll still say that the biblical interpretations of Being is the most poetic, even if thoroughly spoiled by a political imperative of providing an answer to the question "Why?" The reality is that those of us sheep who wish to stray do so at our peril. There is a "One Minute late" out there, that long ago might have been called a thunder bolt. It's an egotistical maniac with a yearning to have a finger on the button that launches the thunder bolt, and he or she always has an answer to the question "Why?" The true thing is, and I'd guess it's an act of faith on my part, time moves, things change and we are never there to see it. It's the nature of belonging to matter. Something no one wishes to admit to because it would mean sacrifice of self. And you have to wonder why God asked his son to carry that burden on his behalf, even if the answer may well be mysterious or "unutterable."