It’s hard to tell in the rubble and smoke of a Götterdämmerung who is morally right and who is morally wrong. Hindsight may be 20/20, but sometimes we are looking through a glass very darkly.
I’ve been drawn back to certain stories again and again, archetypal patterns I suppose a Jungian would call them to justify their importance. Something about them that hits a universal chord, a tale whose characters and adventures you start to recognize across cultures and times and geographies.
Like in the movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind, where Richard Dreyfus stares, transfixed, sweat beading on his forehead, at a pile of mashed potatoes and says: THIS MEANS SOMETHING.
Damned if I know what, but it means SOMETHING. Something clicks. Resonates through the ages. And it’s not my imagination (oh that I had such a powerful instrument in my own little head). No–it’s my little brainz connecting with something clearer, purer, more true for the simple fact that it’s not of my own creation but that it’s connected to some universal spirit that includes all of us, all time, all places.
We can quibble over whether that spirit is limited to Earth, to our Solar System, to One God, to Humans, to Cats and certain sensitive humans aligned with the universe (my own preference), or Unlimited, Eternal. Your god versus my god then takes on a sophomoric cast.
Because if there is something essential linking all of us together, then the rest is just details.