the Dog... I mean God... shaped hole

I have heard for decades now--I can say that cause I really am old enough to say decades without any shame--that there is a definite hole in the hearts of man due to this idea of sin. (Wo)Man's existence is now fueled by the disconnect or fracture formed from the misdoings of our specie's founders, Mr. Adam and M(r)s. Eve as they perpetrated on every sort of thing good and perfect by believing a lie, doing a wrong, and then hiding a truth. Well, now, and for centuries past, there seems to be a God shaped hole inside of me and humanity.

Now my all-too-quick witted ego would spark with futile anger and want to slay this idea down. But I will not, moreover, I will acknowledge that through my hindsight there is something that leaves the cognizance's of us homo sapien sapiens wanting more, feeling incomplete. That the natural surrounding us, whether cosmic, sacred, or profane, leaves us with a daunting feeling of emptiness.

Here is where my contention lies. Here is where I'm like, "Seriously" (said in the vernacular of the BRX). By no means, and I mean no means does this equation ever go off and equivocate a true answer. By no means, do I mean, no means, can one tell me that they are fully sufficed in their existence and this fracture, this brokenness, this gaping abyss is met by the existence of a God. I know, it's a relationship, it's a cordial, argumentative, totally paradoxical in its conversation with the god-head; I get it. But again, find any man who argues this, and follow his heart and he will show you that the hole still exists. The human soul will always yearn. Nature will show you that.

I myself am under the impression that for most anyone can cover this whole hole up. Drugs(over/under), Girls, Petty-theft, Puppies, Social Applause, Do-gooding, and/or all of the above will for a time meet the needs of this aforementioned break. But leave it be to the human nature to yet again feel an imbalance, and go off in search for more. "I want truth; I want ass; I want hope; I want more..." It's how this human aspect rolls.

What else does this craving, and this helplessness, proclaim but that there was once in man a true happiness, of which all that now remains is the empty print and trace? This he tries in vain to fill with everything around him, seeking in things that are not there the help he cannot find in those that are, though none can help, since this infinite abyss can be filled only with an infinite and immutable object; in other words by God himself.
-Blaise Pascal(Pensées 10.148)

But where is this true Utopian happiness lie? Do you really truly believe a legendary tale of an idyllic land that was perfect in every sort of nomenclature promised? I mean this seams more to me of created explanation to this feeling that we humans feel all-too-often then that of an actual definitive answer. The funny thing is, that to my argument, I'm not arguing for an answer. I'm just arguing against this supposed hierophany of truth of Mr. Pascal.

Happiness is defined by it's maker. Get a dog and be happy; at least for a moment.


Be Relentless,
Peace
Remoy