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   PROSE > On Vanity

Vanity comes in many forms. Even the little people would rather think themselves disliked than believe themselves insignificant.

The import of that is this: those who are significant find themselves hated by those who are not. And this is the greatest folly for the significant are only so because others believe them to be so. In other words, the little people who claim to hate the significant are the very people who install them in their place.

It is not hard to imagine the countless insignificant, sitting down together one day and through communion of their little minds they come to agree who they believe is greater than they, and they will take him up, deck him with roses and petunias, adorn his clothes and shower the ground he walks on with water and perfume. To let he, who has been ordained significant, walk to his pedestal of doom so that the rest of us can watch him die from a thousand flying thorns and stones piercing his mortal -- all too mortal -- flesh.


The answer is vanity.

Did you know that the first sin was vanity? It was not disobedience of God although that may well be true. But at the root of it all was always vanity.

It was Luciferís sin. It was also Adamís.

And now, it is ours.

What is vanity? An extreme love of self. Too much pride. That turns to hate.

Lucifer was Godís beloved. The Bearer of Light, but he came to believe that he should be more. He couldnít, of course. One cannot be what one is not. To each his own potentials; to each his own nature. Because of this, he comes to hate his own nature but interprets it as hatred of God because the existence of God is a constant reminder that he will never be more than what he is.

Adam was Godís beloved. The first man, but he came to believe that God loved him above all creation. He should be more. Why is he confined to this earthly body if his destiny is not the earthly life? He starts to ask questions and begins to resent his dual nature. When his thirst for knowledge brought him to the Tree, the Serpent was ready for him.

You see, the vanity of self cannot endure the concept that something which exists in the world is greater than it. If one such concept appears, he must take that concept as an example, humanize it, the way poets humanize nature with pronouns, raise it up and then ultimately destroy it.

Because that is the human forte: to destroy.

But since the self cannot bring itself to destroy itself, it turns its feral eyes on the world.

The anti-thesis of love, therefore, is not hate. The great destroyer of Life (that ultimate expression of love) is not hate but vanity: Of the self.

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