The pre-enlightenment period was defined by the holy truth. Like a child in the mother’s womb the Christian society believed that there is a god whom is invisible and directs the world.
Within the enlightenment it was perceived that from an outstanding point the mother can be identified and God is unmasked.
However, enlightenment moved the border for a God just a bit further to the outside. God is in this post-enlightened period at some specific point beyond the appearances.
There is a god sphere and a world sphere. We humans inhabit the human sphere. We are including many spheres in our life. The size of our life sphere regulates the freedom we have in life. The larger our spheres are the more choices we have to choose from. But they are all an illusion, there is only this one energy we can consume. All is one.
White disc on black firmament,
Stars sparkling, silence of the night.
Warm yellow disc through grey mist.
Colored leaves on the pavement.
We are blindsighted against our weaknesses. We ignore our disadvantages.
We live aware. We are recognizing us. We acknowledge our feelings. We rethink our motions. We have a past and we know it. We will have a future and we plan it. But we live in the present and we often forget this. Being conscious about this moment is the only thing what counts.
We think we know who we are. We draw a largely oversized picture of ourselves. We play as if we are ignorant to our full capacity. We are creating selves to feel bigger. We are nothing but a drop of water in the ocean. We are sabotaging our life in order to be something else than this little drop of water, this little drop is as important as anything else.
Plato questioned our world view.
Socrates was concerned with our logical thinking.
Nietzsche thought about our religious relationship.
Wittgenstein told us to rethink our words.
In sum they taught us to be and not to be haunted by the social conventions.
To follow your heart and virtue, not the words and believes of others.
We shall be, just be.
We think, but we do not know how.
The river runs, but it doesn’t know how.
The eagle flies, but doesn’t know how.
What good is it to know, but not be able to do it?
Thick mist is wafting over fields,
White wall of cotton in every direction,
The bright light of the sun’s disc is smeared across the sky.