The distance between irony and blasphemy is ever so slight. It only takes standing in another position, even if they are standing alongside. All of a sudden, all kinship is up for grabs. Life-long companions can no longer be seen in the way while in the presence of a new bed partner.
When a new revelation comes, what had been seen as a settled conclusion is now recognized as having diminished capacity. Our sense of agency becomes exponentially greater or becomes quite beside the point. What we can do from where we are is guided by angels or technology, depending on what century we find ourself.
For some, a desire for wholeness is a limit on what we can bear. Others find a desire that leads beyond wholeness to something intuited as better than well.
There is a perennial tension about the location of our limits. Some stop far short, and others stride boldly past. In some sense, we are at the paradox of infinity, both countable and uncountable. Consider that ∞ is “infinity”. When we lose track of ∞ not being a number, but a concept, we find that ∞+1 is also infinity. When it turns out that ∞-1 is also infinity, we either laugh (response to irony) or curse (evidence of blasphemy). Either way we need to get back to first definitions and not get overly trapped in common sense when dealing with technical matters.
While the pluses and minuses that accumulate through a journey with sticky realities do have mass that changes our velocity, they carry no weight (again: laugh or curse). Our circumstances can continue to slide away in the face of a trickster or shapeshifter showing us the Great Kenosis of any divinity and any human and any creative context.
The work never ends with a judgment of what is ironic and what is blasphemous. Always we are the constructor of our next pass through their polarities and the import of their calculus.