Scourged (The Iron Druid Chronicles, #10)

by Kevin Hearne

I wonder if they have a fancy law or name for the principle that Humans Ruin Everything for Profit. Maybe that’s just capitalism.

“Because there’s a narcissist with a bunch of cronies who wants to burn down the whole world—your piece of it included—for no other reason than to stoke his own ego and profit besides.” “So, kinda like an American president, then.”

“Why am I here?” Wukong chuckles, throwing his head back in unrestrained glee. “A philosophical question! The answer is simple: to learn and to grow.” “No, I mean, why am I here right now?” The Buddha cocks his head at me and shrugs. “The answer is the same, and will remain the same days and months and years hence.”

Pick a system—any system, legal or ecclesiastical—and you’ll start to wonder at how anyone could think it was fair. And then you’ll realize it was never meant to be fair but rather was intended to protect the interests of the powerful, and then you’re wading through a swamp of cynicism and your day’s ruined.

Wisława Szymborska, wrote about the loneliness of Utopia and how utterly bereft it is of actual people: As if all you can do here is leave / and plunge, never to return, in the depths. / Into unfathomable life.

The only way out is through, and that’s where battle cries come from: an abyss of desperation and sheer, utter rage that someone is standing in the way of your own safety and the safety of those you love.

A Buddhist wishes to point out that desires are what prevent people from achieving happiness, that materialism is the cause of discord.

That is the true poison of prophecy and destiny, the implication that you are somehow not responsible for your actions.

We seldom recognize where the chapters of our lives begin and end until we are gifted the benediction of hindsight. Our loves, our triumphs, our tragedies—they do not exist unless we endure long enough to label them so. I am not sure if I have accomplished much else, but I have at least survived long enough to exult and mourn, to cherish my victories and regret my mistakes. Both are legion.

The danger of growing old is growing comfortable and complacent at the same time. We should seek out the new and strange and applaud it and throw wild fecking parties whenever it walks into our lives. We should be building roads in and out of our own wee heads rather than erecting walls around them.

Yours in joy and whiskey,