On our Existences

“We are supposed to be here.”
This is what we are meant to do. To read or write or work or fall. We only do things that progress into still more things. Actions continue because of what has happened. Yet it is common for people to feel that they aren’t in a good place, they do something negative, unfavorable. People fall out of sync with nature, create disturbances. But the world turns like a nucleus and the lives and occurrences on it are electrons in constant motion, repelling, attracting, dancing along time. It is self-righteous, overpowering, egocentric to believe that “I have fallen away”. The electrons are stable in our noble gas called earth. You cannot break the system, because every time you hit another event and create unrest, something good will come. It is nothing but your own lack of unity with the world that can convince you that of all of the existences, yours is the only bump in the road that will hurt humanity, terrestriality. So out actions may lead to occurrences, our lives may crash into events; but because of the true nature of earth and its existence, we cannot be blamed for destruction- destruction only leads to regeneration and we are supposed to be here causing it.

Ethan's Story 2

Touching the white soil, my new friends the stars let me fall. It’s not a fall that ever would hurt, not that I could feel pain again. My mind is clear, and ahead of me is nothing and everything and love and peace; it is, therefore, happiness. If I had matter anymore, I would use it to run around this new luego or crawl into an undiscovered line to see what it holds. I am no longer a body, though. I am no longer just a dream, just a being, just a matter composite. I can fly so I do. I can sing so I do.

A tree looms in front of me from the stars. They school together to form, at first, a chrome silhouette, but then it forms into a real, living tree in this white Ibid. it could be a box I’m in, but I can’t find the edges. It could be an effervescence I’m in, but then I could leave it. I can see all directions and fly forever but never could I leave and never could I find an end and never could I want to. This is everything, this is hope and life and existences.

I am by the tree now, up in its branches and leaves and xylem, flowing through it as if I am it. I am bark and roots and the fruit on its ends; but this tree is one thing, or a compilation of tissue creating one thing. I leave its system but do not find whiteness again. Below me is dark, thick water, next to me are trees hanging or wilting but thriving and growing. Their branches skim the water, their roots protrude from its surface. What I know to be insects flutter around me. If I was on earth it might be night time or the trees might be covering the sun. There is light, but only enough for me to see a thin mist above the still water. I believe them to be fire flies, they flutter around me. They are the stars in the form of things I can recognize.

I look back at the tree I recently embodied and see moss growing up its side. I see an alligator’s eyes making wake in the water. I see people, like I would have found on earth in the southern parts of the united states when people could survive in villages with paper lanterns hanging from trees and homemade musical instruments and straw hats and dug out boats for traveling. So I follow them. They smile at each other and talk, but I can no longer understand human tongue, nor will I need to again. I realize that they are communicating with the fireflies and the trees and before I can desire that, I am communicating too. With them and with the alligator and the mosquitoes and mosses.

Still not a human and still without matter, I am with them and know everything by its thoughts. The humans in the boats carry me along in their minds. I am this person now, but still not a person at all. I do not control or direct, I follow and relax. Someone else gets to do the work and I enjoy the world through her eyes.

“Now another person, she experiences Ibid as if it were her home. Like a human as she was on earth, but with less strain. There is no worry or anxiety like on earth, her future is not in danger. Nothing can go so wrong that she won’t exist anymore, for she hardly exists at all.

“The bodies carry her down the water to where they call home. She touches the fireflies with herself, hugs the mosses and trees. She can feel the presence of the many fish in the water. The eyes that she watches from look down into the boat at the dirty feet of the body. The body is happy and calm; she knows this, but she doesn’t feel it. All she can feel is peace and happiness. The stars materialize into numerous houses perched upon stilts many feet in the air. There is land, but it is not dry. Other humans are dancing and laughing in circles, around fires, their feet hanging from the houses, music in their hands, paper glowing lanterns hanging from the trees.

“The body lifts itself from the boat, its feet move the way the drum beats. If there was air, it would be blowing at the hair on the people around her. Rain is falling now; it makes this world shine gray. Its droplets on the surface form circles from its wake. If she could have felt it, it would be cold and wet. Now her person’s walking in a line it set. Light flicks in the lanterns hanging from the trees. If she could have felt it, there would have been a breeze.

“People here aren’t running like they did on earth. Their bodies wet, their skin is cold, they dance in the music that harmonizes with the rain. Many of them sing, she does so as well. Not the body she watches from, but herself sings. She can’t touch the rain- or rather the rain can’t touch her. She feels the music, though; it reverberates through whatever she is. It is unearthly, of course. When she was human, music would travel to her mind and it provided pleasure, but it would dispense very soon as would the joy it brought. Here, in Ibid, the music is not quickly lost into the air, its enjoyment is not fleeting. Each new note, each beat, each rain drop plays off of itself and off of the other sounds. Even the laughter and chatter of those around her was music. Rather than ending and never being heard again, it compiles inside of her so that each new moment is only an extension of the last. The relaxation intensifies with each “sound wave,” building this glowing love inside of her that will never drain out. It becomes her and she becomes the sound and the pleasure and the laughter and the rain and the people. She could feel them all. As soon as she does so, they are aware of her presence; they welcome her like one of them, hands the body she is in an instrument, and stands her on the highest stilted house. From there she and the body express together the purest form of peace. It reverberates through Ibid. The rain falls harder, the people smile bigger, the fireflies swarm into a light show that is unlike anything that could ever be seen. Or will ever be seen. Everyone sings, dances, hugs, loves. They love each other and Ibid and the stars of which it is composed.

“Seeing Ibid this way delivers a strange kind of joy. It is unconventional and thus far unrealized to any. On earth, this scene would have simultaneously been the most frightening and the most beautiful thing that she had ever experienced. It is because of this fear that it can become anything worth experiencing or anything so beautiful. Ibid displays it to her with fear substituted for serenity. Ibid, therefore, only intensifies her love of this luego that no longer exists on earth. Here forth she sings and flies through the branches, with the fireflies, as the stars, in the people, to the music. Every movement is bliss that is never excreted. Every movement is love for Ibid and love for her soul and the stars that conjured it.”

Ethan's Story 1

It’s closing in. I can see them, I guess, and I can hope that they are there, I think, but I am still sitting, watching and not really knowing what happens around me. I think they started closing in last summer. Or when I was born. Or when Jesus was born. Or when the universe began, if it ever did actually begin (that’s another story for another day). I am sitting here on the surface of the earth. The sun rotates and goes somewhere that none can pinpoint and we, all humans, follow it, hope that it leads us somewhere, but it may not. It may lead us into a black hole, which is of course nothing. Or it may lead us to an alternate universe in which the earth’s magnetic poles switch and the north is the south, south is north, people are plants and amebas dominate life.

So here I sit, people wandering around me, lives ticking and records spinning. You are not here, and I am not here either, really. Yet we are all here and all not here- does that make us real or nonexistent? Satisfying ourselves with blank checks written to knowledge, we cannot ever know because we simply are not what is meant to do the knowing. So sit with me, let’s think forever and never find an answer. We can think until our brains rot, or two billion years from now, but if the human race was meant to know, we would have known by now. So we just have to wait until we evolve and maybe that species will know. Or the next. Or maybe Earth itself was never meant to produce a knower and we just live for fun, an experiment of what a world with no purpose would end up as.

We are darn near the end, so let us find what we have become. Assigning meaning where there is none, that’s a given. Making rules where rules aren’t needed is yet another. Doing things that need not be done, yes that too. Wonderful things, though, like appreciation of nature and development of the brain as a tool to express itself to the masses, to share happiness, whatever that happiness may be. For even Marilyn Manson is happy- happy with being discontent.

Yet we still aim higher, trying to break through the diamond ceiling. There is no way to break it, though, unless there was another force in the existences that could break it for us. Then I guess we would become knowers.

I’m sitting here with people bumping my crossed legs as they pass me. I don’t know where they are going, nor do I need to know because they can’t see me. They can’t see who I am, at least. I can’t see them. I can see the sky. It is night so the clouds are a dark yellow and the earth moves slightly to the right of Orion- further than it was yesterday night at least. The clouds are yellow and the stars shimmer grey, the way chrome glows when it is wet. As the earth hurls towards the sky and the chrome gets bigger and the yellow gets darker, the people start to notice me sitting in the street; cars stop and go around me and birds fly over to me and dogs scamper up to me, their owners tugging at the leashes “Come back, Chloe, don’t touch it.”

The earth is hurling through the yellow clouds now and the chrome stars are growing. They look mystical, like little orbs that are begging to hover around you the way humming birds hover over flowers. Come closer, orbs, warm us with your light buzzing; hold us up so we don’t fall into abyss.

So the stars do just that. The earth stops rushing and the people stop noticing me and the stars still get closer, but not bigger. The addendum would scare me, but I can’t be scared because earth has hardened me and made me like a diamond that cannot be crushed. The orbs can carry me if they want, though. Carry me, if you want.

Up and down and up, the stars have pulled me into the deep and dark yellow dust. Around, around, the earth moves quickly now and the stars are showing me its life. Honestly, stars, I can’t see a thing, the earth moves to quickly and the clouds are too thick, show me another place I can lay my head.

If there was life to see me, I would be a sight to see. A million stars carry me through time and space so that I cannot see the place I was or where or when I am going. I feel more relaxed than the suns and the moons; somehow, I know I am safe. Somehow, I know that I am going to a book where everything has already happened, I just get to live it as if it were in the present. The author says “The stars glistened in their own light and they illuminated their path with the glow of inner peace. Across the sky, if you looked out far enough, you could just make out the end. Some might call it a forest of rest in which all the creatures reflected those in her own mind- the ones familiar to Planet Earth. Others claimed that it was more of a white cloud that made everyone who touched it eternally happy. Still more believe it to be a hole in space where one could peruse one’s memories and the memories of others like a magazine collection. The stars knew it to be none of these, but also all of these. The stars call it Ibid, so she too calls it Ibid…”

Spider on a Glowing Web

It was only a few nights ago that I went out into my cement yard at night. The water in the pool hardly reflected the little light that shone down from the moon, but the solar lights in the garden illuminated a sight I had never imagined could be so perfect. Between a wilted rose bush and a stray grape vine, was a web spun so flawlessly, it seemed as if it was designed and planned and executed by a human. It sat, suspended, in front of the solar light, as if a person had put their bed directly under a window. It was perfectly symmetrical, perfectly translucent and perfectly clean, and the spider sat perfectly in the center of the web, where all the silk threads met. The light shone through the spider so that he looked like a membrane and so that I could see all his hairs, glowing like a paranormal phenomenon. I couldn’t walk away from this image of the sleeping spider on the perfect web, I was transfixed. So I sat there for a while, watching the motionless scene as if it were an intricate movie waiting to be unraveled. Sitting there, watching the illuminated bed, I realized that nothing a person could create in the circumstances of this spider could be so beautiful. A person could not wake up one morning, grab a rope, and by sundown be suspended safely in a glowing cradle. Everything we create, we plan for. Every impulse we have, from a very young age, is eradicated from our list of actions. Yet, this spider sits, quaint and awful, but free and happy. And we sit, obligated and wonderful, asking our selves when it will be our turn to spin our own webs. At this moment, with my eyes transfixed on the magnified light from the spider’s silk, I realized that whatever we may think, however we may act, we are not the superior race. We walk the earth from top to bottom and everywhere in between. We have even walked on extra terrestrial land, but we still cannot beat the magnificent power of any given animal. We watch with our minds and not with our instincts, and this makes us not alive, but human. For if we really lived, we would be walking until we fell asleep. We would be smelling the plants and drinking from rivers. We would crack acorns with stones and weave clothes out of hide. Who does this today? Nobody I know, probably no body you know. There is, I am sure, some family of lives out there in the Amazon or another tropical place, who does live in this way. And they truly do live. But you and I sit here, writing and reading, laughing and dreaming, sleeping and learning, and we do not live, because to live is to truly experience independence, to know one’s self before you know how to crawl. Today there are people who will die soon, people old and people young, people with experiences that could fill a thousand pages, but they don’t know themselves. They still fall asleep asking god to tell them what to do. And outside their door is a spider spinning a translucent web, who does not ask questions, who does not do what he is told, who does not live in a wooden house and who does not wear fabric clothes. This spider, though, is happy because this spider is alive within himself, he can do what he wants when he wants. He eats when he can, he sleeps when he’s tired, and he creates something so spectacular that the mind of an unliving like myself can’t even absorb it in one night. So I come back the next night to see the spider sleeping in the same spot, the very center of the web. But the third night I come to try and tell the spider I admire him, he is gone. And the web is gone. And there is no trace of him. And I realize that he was bored with this spot so he left, simple as that. He just wanted to. And I still don’t know what it is I work for.

On "Want"

The following excerpt was written during my junior year of high school. It is reccomended to read On "Right" and "Wrong" after finishing this piece.

"I am at school in the library right now. I should probably be studying for my SAT but I really am bored and I just spent an hour doing math, I need a break.
My SAT is this Saturday and I have barely studied for it at all. I have a math practice book that I read during SSR but other than that I am not prepared. People In my classes are carrying around twenty pound books that they study from every free moment they have. Some are even taking SAT prep classes, but I’m not. I don’t really know why. I told someone it was because my GPA would be good enough that I wouldn’t need to prove my intelligence. I told someone else that I don’t care about the SAT, that the ACT is more important to me. But I think the real reason is that I am just lazy. I always say that if you want something you’ll get it.
This is because if you want something you will work for it and eventually earn it. Although it would be nice to get an 1850 on my SAT this weekend, I don’t want it badly enough to work for it, and I probably wont get it. It really irks me when somebody says they want something and then do nothing to achieve it. No matter what, if you really want something you will find a way to get it. A 5.0? you’ll find a way. A new car? That’s an easy one. A husband? There’s nothing holding you back. People just use “want” as code for “I wish it could be handed to me”.
In history, we are learning about the great depression and I guess one of the main goals of that era were the four freedoms: freedom of religion, of speech, from fear and from want. Freedom from want? I really have no idea what it is supposed to mean politically but I think I have realized what it means personally. It means that to be free from want you are free from hoping something will happen. Without the possibility of something happening without your interference, everyone would have to work extra hard. For instance, if I wanted to be a millionaire, I might play lotto every week. Instead of investing that money in stock or another more productive way, I would spend twenty dollars a week hoping that something will happen for me. The problem is that these things happen by accident. I could have gotten a job where I could work my way to the top and save money. I could have started my own business to earn a profit. I could have done so many things rather than play the lotto, but lotto is the easiest one to do so of course that’s the one everybody tries. And because people aren’t doing something that really would make them a millionaire, they just don’t get what they “want”. In actuality, they don’t really want it because no one truly believes they are going to become a millionaire by playing lotto. They know that it is just a dream that would be nice if it worked out, but it’s just not going to. That makes it not a “want” but a hope or a dream
And that is what FDR meant in “freedom from want” I think. He meant that it was freedom to hope that other people would change the world for you and you just had to sit around and watch. His new deal did just that. Durring the depression, the unemployed blamed themselves for not keeping jobs and tried hard to get work. In today’s recession, people blame the banks, the government, anything but them selves. That’s because they don’t want to fix the economy, they hope it will be fixed. They aren’t willing to do anything, but they hope that one day somebody will. I don’t think that freedom from want is something to aspire to. We only do what we want to and if we get frustrated, we blame someone else.
For instance, if I was asked to mow the lawn, I could say I don’t want to but that’s only true if I don’t end up mowing it. In reality, I would want to not get in trouble with my parents so I would mow the lawn. Meaning I wanted to mow the lawn. If for some reason I really honestly didn’t want to mow the lawn, I wouldn’t do it and would suffer the consequences. That’s why I also get frustrated when people say they don’t want to do something. They say they don’t want to go to work, then fine, don’t show up, get fired. They don’t want to get fired so they go to work, hence they wanted to go to work. If you really don’t want to do something, you won’t.
Someone holds a gun to your head and says they want you to give them all the jewelry at the store you own. You don’t want to because it is enough to put you out of business, but you also don’t want to get shot. You weigh which one you want more in your head and conclude that you would rather go bankrupt than be dead so you give the robber the jewelry. You wanted to give the robber the jewelry. You didn’t have to, you could have chosen to be killed, but you didn’t want to die.
It’s all very simple and clean, but people see too many things as a want or a don’t want when in fact they are confusing things with “it would be nice” or “I would prefer not to”. However, both of these phrases would continue with a “but I understand that…” and the person would realize that what they really want is what may not seem as pleasing. Bottom line: You get what you want, you don’t have to do anything.
Which brings me back to my SAT. I don’t really want to do well on it, I don’t know why, but if I did, I would be studying right now instead of writing this."

On "Time" as We Know it

I turned on the history channel this morning to find a commercial for “Life After Humans,” a series about how the world would crumble without our existence. I thought it was odd that a history channel program was based on the “If,” especially an if that hasn’t happened yet. At first I though it was dumb for putting the future on the History Channel, history is past, not future. Then I realized that we are already the past, and so the future is the past too, because all existence is a book being read by a god. A book that has already been written and so the future is already past. For example, I am in the past as I write this and you are in the past as you read this. When I started this, I wasn’t in the present because it is already in the past. As I type the first word of this sentence, time slips away so quickly that I cannot ever know exactly when I typed it, it happened so fast I could not ever have said “now is the present”. Before I could finish saying that, it would already be the past and if half of your action or three quarters of this action or any action is in the past, is any of it in the present? Then there is no living the moment because the moment is already the past and one cannot live in the past. But isn’t one’s life only in the past? Because the past is permanent and immoveable and if it has already happened, then that is one’s whole life, because one has not yet lived the future and one can never achieve the present. Then, if what seemed like the future five minutes ago is already the past, how was it ever the future. In a year, this will be the long past, it should just already be considered the past. Then the god will have an easier time of it because if he puts the book down, our lives won’t stop because they will already have been written and hence already finished and already in the past but simply pretending to be in the present when the book is being read. Because it is curious how millions of years have passed or billions or trillions but really infinite amount of time, not even years or life times or existences because everything has already existed and has always been existing. Even before life or before earth or before a god existed or was realized to exist. Before the redwoods and before the stars and before the elements and before matter. But “before” indicates time and so time has always existed. Yet we don’t even know what “always” means because our brains cannot yet fathom even the present, so we cannot fathom the furthest past. We cannot know how far exactly it goes, but it must have started sometime, we cannot have existed at its start but before the universe existed what was what and what was where? And if there was nothing to have seen or felt or known, or simply nothing to see or feel or know, then how can one be certain time existed to hold it in? If, then, we cannot fathom the past and we cannot experience the present, the future must too be unreal. Then nobody has jurisdiction over our timeline because a timeline cannot exist. Without such perception of nanoseconds and centuries, our lives would be immeasurably simpler. In a class I take called History of the Americas, we learned about the industrial revolutions and the induction of the technology of railroads into the lives of the lived. Because the railroads were vital to the development of the country, or the world for that matter, a schedule needed to be set to ensure the arrival of trains at their stations and the arrival of people and goods at the train. So the first modern-day, American time system, account of how numbers and the immeasurable should be accounted for on a minuscule, minute by minute, hour by second basis. And so it began, and so it caught on, and so it continues. And so it has been “minutes” since I started writing this and since you started reading this and since the clocks started ticking when the railroads started blowing off steam. And yet I cannot tell you when the clock started ticking for the very first time, for was time invented or discovered? Had the universe been keeping track since its beginning or did the human race or the sun invent it for us to use? If it is an invention, we may as well disregard it because it wasn’t intended to exist and it only messes us up. It messes up my concentration here as I am looking at the clock to ensure I leave and arrive at a place in the future or present or past by two o’clock pm. When I arrive at that place, when will I be? In the second or nanosecond of present, in the long and seemingly distant future, in the never ending, never starting past? Or will I never actually be there. Am I never actually here? Because future doesn’t exist, past never started and present is unfathomable. So when you and I die, will anything know we existed? Will paper and hard drives be enough to preserve our memories and knowledge for those ahead of us, or have those ahead of us already existed? They exist in the past, that means we exist in the past. That means future doesn’t exist and that means past never ends. With an un-ending past and a never occurring present, then every dream or aspiration has already happened or not happened and every prophecy has already been fulfilled or unfulfilled. And that means the earth has already existed without humans, ant that means the history channel should run their program about the future because it is already the past and already history. You and I are history, let’s leave our mark on it together.

On "Right" and "Wrong"

Upon recent confrontation with the issue, I have decided to put my favorite thoughts into words, finally. Often times when I am alone, my mind wanders into thinking- I cannot help it! It seems that my mind’s favorite subject is defining right and wrong. I will, at last, place these thoughts into words as best I can.

A math problem can be wrong or right. End of story. Either 12 divided by 7 is equal to three or not, there is no in between, there exists only one correct answer. Science, too, may provide in some cases right or wrong answers- what a water molecule consists of, for instance. A water molecule cannot consist of Potassium, Oxygen and Nitrogen. Scientific inquiry, study and definition all dictate that such a thought would be simply wrong. It is in these contexts, and very few others, that the words Right and Wrong can be used properly. This is because there are people in the world other than those called Absolutists.

Absolutists believe in only one true answer- all other notions are wrong. Even if a notion has yet to be proved or will someday be disproved, it still holds an answer, and regardless of who knows it, that alone is the truth. So, to an absolutist, the earth revolves round the sun. The earth has always revolved around the sun, even though hundreds of years ago it was a crime to believe so. An absolutist knows that the people who believed other wise were wrong simply because they didn’t believe in the truth. Today, we might believe them to be wrong because it can be proven that the earth does in fact revolve around the sun. To an absolutist, the proof may or may not be necessary for a notion to be deemed right or wrong. It is in the mind of an absolutist to believe that common acceptance, reasoning and popular dispersal have no bearing on whether or not something is right.

There are, though, two other kinds of thinkers, of which I will focus on the Relativist. A relativist believes that truth is subject to change due to the time, age and location of the thinker. So to those who believed that the earth did not revolve around the sun, that was the truth. It was their truth, and so it was true. Whatever proof they had was proof enough that the earth was the center of the solar system. They may have considered themselves right. Until someone proved them wrong. And only through proof can that be done. Today, we know it to be wrong that the earth is the center. Today we know it to be wrong. We cannot know what thinkers will believe in the future, so can we say that we are honestly right?

If you have noticed the importance of the Relativist, then you may move on to the next paragraph; if not, explanation will follow. The relativist challenges the absolutist’s truths. He says that because we don’t know what new proof the future will hold, we cannot know the “absolute” truth, and because we don’t know the “absolute” truth, we cannot decide that any given fact is wrong.

You must see now how science is difficult to predict, and that although it can be proven, it can also be disproved. Hence, even those referring to scientific investigations should use caution when saying “Right” or “Wrong.” Math is different. Math can be proven, but it has yet to be revoked. Although it develops, it has not been undone- that is addition has not been proven false, etc. So I would advise that only in mathematical situations do the words of the day be used. They may be used in science as long as the user is aware that, although they are true now to us, they may someday have been false or will be false, and to some people are false. Simply because someone else may out-prove your theory.

If even the sciences are as sticky as they are, then the ethics are the worst place to use the words of the day. This is because ethics- of which I mean to include the arts, religion, language, and other “humanities” than I know very well are not under the ethical “umbrella;” I use this word to keep things concise- cannot ever truly be proven to the satisfaction of the majority. As much as it pains me to say this, we cannot call animal abuse wrong. We cannot call slavery wrong. We cannot call genocide wrong. Yet, before we move on I must establish that I condemn the aforementioned acts. These acts cannot be considered wrong because there is no way to prove… anything. What would your equation, experiment, look like? Beneficence versus harm? It simply could not work, for test would be to use the act in question. Even if someone could test “right,” what would he or she look for? (These are all questions I expect to be answered by the readers of this piece).

As I have established, truth as I see it is relative to time and place. Although we see genocide to be an atrocity, the man in charge of the most famous genocide actually did it because he thought it would better the human race. He killed millions of people because he thought it would help. To him and to his supporters, they were doing the right thing. To us, they were doing the wrong thing. So who can be proven right? How do we prove the value of the individual? We believe in it, we trust in it, but we cannot show it. Without prove, it is rendered unable to be labeled as right or wrong. Hence, no one can call another wrong for believing what they do. Immoral, sure. Inhumane, sure. But not wrong. Nor right.

To at last reinforce this idea, I will use the common debate of religion. God exists. God may exist. God may or may not exist. God is what you make, how you see, what you choose to believe. What you choose to believe. Since no one now or (I believe) EVER will be able to prove or disprove the existence of God, religion simply cannot be regarded as right or wrong. There are hundreds if not thousands of interpretations of religion in the world and most of them claim that only theirs are right. The followers know that theirs is the right one. But no one honestly knows which one it is, it could never be proven. So none are wrong, they haven’t been proven wrong. None have been proven right, either. If everyone holds their own truth, then their can be an infinite amount of truths. No one must be wrong- at least not until the moment when it is proven either way.

In conclusion, ethics, art, language, religion, politics, philosophy, and any other subject of the sorts cannot be considered wrong. They cannot be proven to irrefutable satisfaction and hence may never be answered. So every truth regarding them may be temporary, relative or absolute, but no one can know, there is simply no means to do so.

Notes at the end
Please respond, debate, challenge, question- it’s the only way we can each understand each other better.
Absolutists must of course disagree- please challenge me.
If an analysis of Right and Wrong is desired in History, I will post one.
The other way of thinking is Subjectivist.