#Ontology

The analogy of being is the grand linguistic trick of equating God and humans. It is a brave yet absurd attempt to cram the infinite into finite metaphors. In theology and philosophy seminars it sounds lofty, but in reality it’s just abstract showmanship. All that remains after the wordplay is a sharp paradox and a headache. Ultimately the more you explain it, the deeper you descend into a mirror-maze of metaphors.

An archon is a high-ranking bureaucrat hired in the spiritual realm, claiming to boss the gods themselves. They profess to guard cosmic order, yet their very presence breeds the most troublesome chaos. Believers fear them; scholars incorporate them into theoretical frameworks, treating them as a comfort blank check. In the end, an archon is like a ghost perched atop humanity’s prime desire: the will to believe.

Becoming is a blend of veneration and forced alchemy that squeezes something out of the unseen void. Sometimes exalted as a divine act, sometimes derided as nothing more than a mundane procedure, it mocks the cruel truth. It promises infinite possibilities and infinite rollback in the same breath, seducing us into a bottomless swamp. Ultimately it departs having left only the self doubt of whether anything was ever truly generated, a master of ironic theatrics.

Destiny is the haughty playwright that glances at human choices and efforts only to ignore them, entrusting everything to a cosmic script. People find comfort in accepting suffering and shelving joys, using it as an excuse. Even though the ending is fixed, playing out the roles highlights the absurdity of human existence. Ironically, destiny serves as the grand disguise for advocates of free will.

Metaphysics is the discipline of endlessly debating realms beyond observation and verification, only to end with no one convinced and a sigh by the desk. It claims to explore the essence of being and the origin of the universe by piling on infinite words and somehow returning to the starting point. The technical terms used along the way serve either as signposts into the jungle of concepts or as lost-and-found tags, depending on whom you ask. One sets out to pursue truth but unwittingly becomes immersed in the self-indulgent play, and before you know it, the number of raconteurs has grown while true philosophers remain scarce.

Ontology is the academic carnival in which scholars debate the nature of being while conveniently forgetting to define existence. Mountains of jargon and concept maps fly overhead, only to leave a blank conclusion behind. Despite the heated arguments, its practical usefulness remains questionable. Yet funding pours in, propelling the quest for being deeper into an endless labyrinth.

The posthuman soul is the quintessence of self-contradiction, seeking eternal transcendence by digitizing the spirit while overlooking the finite lifespan of its hosting platform. It proclaims the cloudification of the soul yet remains an iconic victim of bugs and mandatory updates. Promises of transcendence morph into the burden of vendor lock-in and subscription fees, turning personal freedom into the prison of license agreements. It heralds humanity’s next evolution, yet exposes the terror of entrusting one’s essence to the black box of technology. This ultimate transcendence paradoxically illuminates the most fundamental constraints.

Selfhood is the cradle of consciousness that proclaims “I am unique” with lofty proclamations, yet remains bound by invisible chains of others’ judgments. It is an identity projector sustained by endless comparison, a labyrinth chasing the reflection in the mirror. While questioning its own purpose, it trembles at the number of likes on social media, a parody of selfhood itself. The noble journey of self-exploration frequently degenerates into a party of approval-seeking. A paradox-laden toy chest of the mind, selfhood offers contradictions and ridicule in equal measure.

A stranger is one who abandons the comfort of familiar realms to seek footing in the territory of others. Viewed simultaneously with wonder and suspicion, this peripatetic figure transforms at will into an object of fascination or a scapegoat. Words of welcome prove as fragile as castles in the sand, only to be replaced by cries of exclusion at the slightest transgression, a paradox weighing heavy on a supposedly free soul. It is only by crossing cultural boundaries that the silent voyager glimpses the true contours of the self. As if to suggest that truth itself germinates only in the soil of the foreign.

Substance is the shared nightmare of philosophers and theologians, argued without touch and believed without sight. It stands at the start of every argument, only to self-destruct under the question Does it even exist. Originally intended to denote the hidden core of an object, its absence lays bare the debater's laziness and delusion. Each invocation of substance forces one to confront their own impotence. The frantic scramble after what isn't there is humanity's own absurd tragedy.

The Supreme Being is an audience that claims omnipotence without ever answering. People beg for its grace and despair of receiving concrete guidance. Even with a ticket called prayer, the counter remains closed. It masquerades as all-knowing yet stays silent when most needed. Here lies the perfect fusion of illusion and shirking responsibility.

Thrownness is the reckless leap of a fool who entrusts himself to a wingless bird called hope for tomorrow, attempting to fly. To validate one's worth, one grabs the future with one hand while clutching anxiety and regret in the other. Too little momentum leads to a crash, too much slams you into the void like surfing existentialism. Diving off the cliff of ideal and reality at full force, yet enveloped by the paradox of self-responsibility.