Eris, I invoke thee to evoke thy prowess of chaos and your creative essence to sanctify this water before me, for all that is unknown is not all tragedy and despair but raw and unadulterated potential lay within its abyssal depth. Within the heart of darkness and far from the closest sun, there is bliss in shear existence and a joy in the turbulence that unites the undefied with the effable, in majestic fire there is a quenching of desire and relinquishing of apathy that creates momentum and empowers the feeble, that rains wrath on the powerful and gives it to the meek.
For all that exist, all live within chaos, and all are subject to the fairness of uncertainty, to the whim of probability. For all that know, there is a gnostic certainty of the unknowing nature of it all, and for those who are lost, they are certain that they know the workings of its mechanisms, and will pay for their ignorance by having their wealths divided and shared among the swaths of those uncertain of tomorrow and knowledgeable of forever.
It’s thus I decree, as Erisian Pope Oblong, Rev. Gerbil brain and Space Umpire of the future martian colonies, that all is fair in the ‘hood and that good things happen to bad people, as often as bad things happen to good people, and as often as good things happen to good people, not to discredit the occasions where bad things happen to bad people, and in this profound insight the fairness of reality is known to all, and out of that fairness comes a peace of mind that can only be sated by embracing the turmoil.
For all your chaotic undertakings, I beg thee ERIS, in her merciless ambiguity, to bestow upon thee the knowledge that all things being equal, that both nothing matters and because of that EVERYTHING MATTERS VERY MUCH – If you so decide it does, when you choose and how you want to look at it. This is the equality that discord offers, in that everyone be treated by nature in a just and fair manner, regardless of what you think you deserve, what you feel is your right, and how much you hate your neighbor.
SO POOP ON HIS LAWN,
Or don’t!
It doesn’t matter. It will all average out in the end, because although not all men are born equal, all of us die just the same.
:::
Amour Fou 