The problem with asking questions is, we can’t find a suitable answer that can satisfy our craving for knowledge. While it is, yes, human to ask, it is pointless when there’s not a stop –an enough is not enough-, a refrain, a decision to feel vindicated and understood. Knowledge becomes our lust: a bloodlust, a hopeless, hapless, bloodlust.
We viciously search for answers in the maddest ways possible, all in the name of Human Desperation. Man looks on books, on houses, on interviews and mass media. Man checks on beaches on bathtubs; on houses and botánicas and agoreros. They judge the information and can it twice. They set it up on MLA or APA, and then painstakingly format it for a book with three-hundred pages. They talk it through with the publisher, get the signings and the bestsellers.
And then, what do they have? A few mils? Yep, they’ve got nothing. There’s still no answer!
Why do we look at heaven and the earth and below the earth to find something that will never have an answer? Why do certain events happen in life that people like so-and-so had to go through? Why do we sin? Why do we lose our faith? Why do we die?
Man gets all Socrates on himself, his cranium wheezing and whining and begging for mercy. Man looks at the sun and the moon and the stars and gazes mysteriously, as if God –and the world- owed him some. He grows desperate and sheds his tears.
But what he forgot to look, is that the answer was in front of his nose.