Pillars & Pyre
With reverence, and in grandiose display, pillars rise up, pyres burn down. Everybody loves a spectacle. If we are compelled to observance of spectacular displays of veneration, even if in the shape of total evisceration into airborne particulate, it’s not by the words of a messiah come home. We’re wading through something we don’t see, something that is gently tugging and pushing us like invisible waves lapping at our hips, as we sway in tandem.
And how did you arrive here, whether your body is raised up or burned down? The master, the chorus, the fire, they have no agency here. They only tell you what you already know. You are where you are going to be, you arrived in that position at birth, and you will be held tightly. There is familiarity there, and you’re protective of that place that you occupy. It’s where you belong, it enfolds you, and comforts you, and the very system that supports it is venerable for offering you that comfort.
Pillars and Pyre questions the language of faith that served to justify our existence in a part of the world that is not our own, a language that continues to operate as a metaphor for our way of being, our sense of justice, of purpose and social organization. How far removed is this language from its source, from its intention? And how far will it lead us astray?