I have never possessed the desire to cultivate the environment in which I find myself positioned, considering such concerns of no particular import to the general fabric of existence. Whether we are isolated of connected is a wholly fallacious consideration, unworthy of deep or concerted thought. Far better to simply float superficially across the universes surface than trouble the pristine plane with petulant or discombobulating interruption.
Hopes and dreams are matters upon which I have never based conclusions, I am far more interested in intent, a true measure of degree of will to facilitate an outcome. Ascertaining actual purpose, objective or design is never straight forward, requiring the usage of a considerable degree of nuance when initially questioning and latterly considering any response.
‘Who goes there, friend or foe?”, rings out the traditional sentry’s challenge, the perfect example of a wholly erroneous enquiry of intent. There are two possible responses, either number one, “We are bad people and are intent upon immediately slaughtering you all in your boots,” or two, “We are excellent people bearing gifts of fruit and delicious alcohol for your joyful consumption.” The failing in the process is of course the naïveté of the question. The only possible answer is ever going to be the later, whether the outcome is to be death or chocolate.
Examinations of intent cannot be open ended, allow for wriggle room or subtlety. They must be carefully planned and processed, much as would be an investigative police interview or a well formulated public enquiry. A submission of intent suggests a degree of promise or oath, an adherence to truth and honesty, at minimum an avoidance of falsehood or connivance.
Hopes and dreams are for infants, for diarists, for beauty pageant contestants, for children practicing dress up, authors speaking in their inner voice, scullery maids wishing to be Princesses. Intentions have the feel, taste and weight of reality, hopes and dreams the vagaries of Scottish mist.
Mine own hopes and dreams have largely all been fulfilled, accomplished in a manner personally pleasing and yet likely universally disappointing. By contrast my intentions have always been whole heartedly highly questionable, yet carried out with suitable obeisance, theatrical verve and the finest frippery.
Relations with the seven capital vices or more generally designated cardinal sins tend to exuberantly emphasize the more pressing points of interest and decision throughout our span. What might simply be assumed overly colored literary ebullience by the likes of John Bunyan, Geoffrey Chaucer, Evagrius Ponticus through his pupil John Cassian, and of course my personal sage Durante di Alighiero degli Alighieri, Dante Alighieri in shorthand, in actuality more than succinctly recreate the web of earthly temptation we are ever inclined to carefully traverse in our constant progress betwixt and between the septuplet ages of mankind.
Traditionally listed as being pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth, the ‘deadly’ sins are by necessity and design inclined to shuffle and relabel through both current social or societal pressures and overriding fashion. That we suffer these general ingrained traits is unquestionable, whether we ever successful recognize and adapt through avoidance, dilution or correction is decidedly open to debate.
According to the mythology even for the second time of asking Adam was created imperfectly, left with the capacity to make unfortunate choices and decision ad infinitum, presenting the conundrum of nurture or nature for eternal procrastination.
For every advance along evolutions torturous path we have simultaneously strayed from our unselfconscious ability to repetitiously quote allegory, creating directional pointer and precedent.