In one month, it will be two years since I started this hell known to me as long covid. Many of you who read my writings may never have suspected such a thing. That’s because I believe in fate; Amor fati.
My formula for greatness as a human being is amor fati. I cannot ask for life to be different. I cannot change the present and wish upon the past. I must bear this out of necessity and not conceal it. That to idealize life is bullshitting myself – but rather I need to learn to love it.
Pain is the great liberator of the spirit. Pain does not makes us “better”, but it makes our lives more profound. Suffering pain is not good in itself, but it is a precondition for good. It takes one moment to create the eternal good in our lives and a whole lifetime to justify its crown.
When suffering, we do not deserve pity. All people suffer, but not all people pity themselves. There’s a rejection of pleasure in this standard of human happiness and felicity. Instead, we take the position of the wise man, the good man, who lives in accordance with nature.
Our only fear is abdicating our moral responsibility. We are not afraid of pain. We are not afraid of death. We are not afraid of poverty. We are not afraid of any of the vicissitudes of the human condition. We only fear that we let ourselves down and that we should be less than a complete human being in doing so.
Our human condition is a curse of Sisyphus; condemned to eternally repeat the task of pushing a boulder up a hill only to watch it roll back down again. We find happiness through the affirmation of the essential meaningless of our suffering.
We must reject certain things within our lives to rise anew. We must be ready to burn ourselves in our own flames to rise like a phoenix from our own ashes. To then soar higher and appear smaller to those who cannot fly. To never look up to feel a sense of being exalted, but rather look down because we know deep down we already are.