I was up before five, so it was a long wait till the store opened on Maxwell Road. For a week or so I’ve thought about perfection and what that means in our experience. People seem to disagree on whether it exists. In a way, it’s what Christians are waiting for with the New Jerusalem. Many people are discontent living with imperfection. If it doesn’t exist here, then we expect it with the sublime. I think my streak of Romanticism has reached its end. Still, there’s an argument I find it hard to refute, and that is what Plotinus says about The One. Without this, the particulars or individual things could not be. It’s a purely ontological line of reasoning, but when you’re on his turf you can hardly use any other than his own terms. Similarly, when I was in school, it took me three years to repudiate Berkeley’s idealism. When I did, I took only one more class in philosophy… I don’t know if utopia is for real. The very word means “nowhere.” Is it possible to build paradise?
I will not cease from mental fight
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England’s green and pleasant land.
Whatever the truth is, there’s something in human nature that always reaches for the Ideal. It’s a notion that resides not outside of us, but within.