The beginning does not exist. At birth, drawn from an infinite void, we are thrown into existence, projected towards death as a possibility and an inevitability. But does this not presuppose a faith in origin? Does not the fact of birth make clear the act of origination, an act so seemingly concrete that no one would give any doubt to its validity? Yet let us think.
Genesis, as an event, lies beyond the scope of history. The search for a point in time at which Man became Man amounts to futile effort. The origin, being atemporal, regresses infinitely as we dive ever deeper through the epochs of human existence. Such an event is a “truth” – a functional truth – which grants us an anchor, a point of certainty in which the belief in an unmovable essence can stand against the currents of Becoming. Faith in Being – after all, some errors are necessary for life.
I refuse Genesis. Those who, encountering genealogies, only see the expansion of familial ties are mistaken in their view. To me, genealogies, rather than pointing to an originary event, act as incisions upon the fabric of history, revealing to us the irrational becoming of chance, and the repetition of the human form in its manifold recurrence.
History is not progress, and Becoming can only be a broken narrative. In rejecting the certainty of birth, I set my humanity upon the certainty of death. This, far from pessimism, is the only affirmation I can gain in approaching existence with an honest eye. We begin to die the moment we are born. Death is the only certainty in every human life. Before death, all humanity, whether master or slave, are rendered equal and free. We cannot escape the Tragic, therefore let us affirm it in celebration. Look to the setting sun, in its burning splendour lies the seed of justice.