Your Happy Life: Day Four

Day One

Day Two

Day Three

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Yesterday, we met a man at a funeral. Edifying experience, wasn’t it? You, being happy, cannot relate to the protagonist. For this, you should consider yourself fortunate. Your job, after all, was never to relate, but merely to watch. Yes, to watch, without empathy, without care, perhaps even with a little scorn! Scorn! It is true. I, for one, commend your scorn and urge you to revive it every time I present to you the sufferings of your fellow human. Scorn is the privilege of the supremely happy. What do all the gods share? It certainly isn’t love, oh happy one. You won’t find a shiver of love in the heart of your own god between the pages of Genesis and Malachi. Scorn, however, you will discover in plentitude. What god does not show scorn, even when tracing the empty devotion to love on the pages of their user manuals? Patience, please. We shall say more of love later. For now, it is enough to know that scorn is the ambrosia of the gods. Leave your embarrassment and pathetic dissembling behind you as you approach. Fear not scorn, since your fear is nothing but the hereditary lie of those who would keep it all to themselves. Unlearn your timidity and return to the man at the funeral with proud scorn. Laugh as he imagines his wife weeping. Encourage him to dive into the dark. Bathe in his pain, like the great, scornful Bathory, but do not wish for his death. The happy do not kill, since in their scorn, they realize that the body is a deserved prison for the unhappy. Allow the light of your happiness to increase against the shadow of their misery

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