I stopped believing in God. I lost my way. Maybe there is no causal relation here.
I tell myself this: Most rational lives require no lucid theology.
One must imagine Sisyphus happy. Someday there’ll be warm diagonal light across a table, honey and saffron mixed with milk and served in a glass that would never shatter, family, home, work, swaying trees carrying the lingering scent of night jasmine, a child gently playing the harmonium while I fall asleep and grow back into myself.
What Zizek said: What makes us happy is not to get what we want. But to dream about it.
What Zizek said, shorty after: If you want to remain happy, just remain stupid.