We do so many things through and for love. This heart that has its reason and this reason that listens to the walls of its body… The most recent tectonic movements of my heart, the constant fog in which my secrets move, the slow drift of my existence, I record the facts, try to connect the pieces of string without succeeding there, knots, here alliances.
This morning, I was rereading on Occam’s razor, a principle older than the Earth of Mankind, by which it is said that, if things are explained and simply proven, it is because, inevitably, the truth is found in this place rather than in convoluted constructions.
A simplistic explanation is not proof. It is not enough to say that God exists to explain the world. We have to prove it and, generally, we succeed in explaining the world without proving the existence of God. This is the case with love and other feelings. It is not enough to say I love you to prove your own’s love. Rather, the evidence comes from accomplishment, gestures, incarnation or, more coldly, love is explained by apparently complex hormonal movements, nourished by the mechanical will of genes that only seek to reproduce themselves.
But again… this Bohemian child doesn’t have to prove anything. The reason for love or God is not solved.
Our God is Love. In its presence, we close our eyes, we kneel, we blind ourselves or refuse him, we harden our hearts for reasons in the form of labyrinths or English gardens. Our God is Life, it is already a pearl of great wisdom, I believe, to say only that to oneself.
For the rest, inshallah, let the razor simplify everything.