When I was a kid and I ended up alone outside at night I could feel an evil force rushing behind me as I approached the house. I always broke into a late sprint, as if it were possible to outrun a shadowy evil force, outwit it by switching from a walking pace, I always turned around as if by looking it in the face you could ward one off.
At times I've felt the opposite, that my dead are watching over me and those that I love behind the scenes. At moments of loving weakness I even explicitly pray to them, appealing to them to pull strings behind the scenes to make sure things fall right. If love is such a transcendent force can it disappear when those we love die? Or could it transform into pure energy, become immanent in the world for us to access when we need it most.
At other times I've felt that both views are too simplistic. That either things go well or not in a kind of scattershot pattern separate of all love or human logic and the best we can pray for is to be alert, to react with our true hearts and good reflexes to what the world throws at us, to what we throw at ourselves.
O mucky universe, what's your true nature, why so project as beautiful murderous creature never to be fully understood, like some philandering middle-aged English prof's platonic daydream grad student turned soul-sucking vampire (and of course the fact that she's a vampire was the kinkiest part of the daydream). And lo as his metaphoric soul is consumed he tries to figure out the prime angle for some final discerning piece of academic critique, luckily she hips to his game and nulls his mind at that instant.
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