It's conspiracy theories.
We all hate them to some degree. But, the reason why I hate them is, I think, rather unique.
They prevail that this world is not as it seems. That it is a curtain for something darker, and deeper. Something interconnected and strange and complex. But what is this thing that works the puppets?
So, it's aliens.
No, wait. It's the CIA.
Ah, no, it's the lizard people, who wear human skin.
It's that damned illuminati! Keeping us in the dark!
Of course, none of these things are real. They're ridiculous. Phenomenally.
But I don't have a problem with them being ridiculous. I find that reality is frequently ridiculous.
I have a problem with them, because they're boring. The whole vast universe, a great rip piling ocean of mystery. And yet, the best you can come up with are little grey dudes who want to probe you in interesting places?
No, the truth is infinitely vaster and more true than that.
The very concept of infinity cannot be grasped by a human mind. Whatever strange denizens lurk beyond this small circle of firelight, they are far beyond the comprehension of you and I.
Do they pull the strings? Are there strings to pull? Does it watch us? He, or she, it and they, all useless. Language is incapable of even giving the most vague name to whatever it is that you and I feel when we hear the reaper sharpening his scythe. That fear of mortality. It's more that just that, isn't it?
We're conditioned to ignore it. But it's there. Squirrelled away in the back of our minds. Everything we do is a distraction from it.
The strangeness of sentience makes us know it is there.
This weird vagueness is all that can be put into words. It is beyond us to know.
