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Our Vehicles of Happiness
The news I give, always and only, the thing that never ceases to please me, is creation. I draw. I write. I sing. I code. I create something, and that's the only thing I ever feel worthy to brag about, the only thing I really like to jump online and tell everybody. Look at what I've made! Creation. That's mine.
Someone else (and I'm not naming names here, so don't bug me about it), she enjoys attainment. She buys, she shops, she downloads. When she brags it's about the things that have come into her possession. Look at what I've got! Attainment. That's hers.
For others, it's conversation. They love to get online and talk about what they've talked about. They adore every word they speak. They are under the impression everybody else is hanging onto every word about the witty comeback they said to so-and-so last week about some subject we've never heard of. Look at what I've said! Conversation. That's theirs.
For some, it's depression. It's hard to understand why some people love to hate their lives. It seems sadness makes them happy. They can only talk about how amazingly awful everything always is, how life keeps kicking them in the nuts, and how it will never, ever improve in a million years. Any attempts to persuade them otherwise will fail miserably and that's how they want everything: utterly miserable. Look at how sad I am! Depression. That's theirs.
Some just love experiencing life in general and picking out its craziest moments to talk about. You know the sort: the person who always has a zany tale up their sleeve, ripe for the picking, and it gets more extravagant with each telling, like a snowball rolling downhill. Look at what I've seen! Experience. That's theirs.
Others still (goodness knows I'm still this) love to learn and know. You know them, too. A child reads a fact book and for a week every stranger they meet is endowed the same enlightenment, often loudly so and out of context. Look at what I've learned! Knowledge. That's theirs.
And, alright, last one here. Some people's only pride in life is life itself; not the experience, or even the wisdom gained from that experience, but the growth and maturity from that wisdom. Every time they take a huge step in life, whether it's just buying a new chair to buying a new house, meeting a new guy to marrying him, it swells them up inside to know they're making advances towards a wise old age. Look at how mature I am! Growth. That's theirs.
So what's yours?
Rebirth, Restart, Recycle
I thought the world was smart enough to have settled its differences by now*. It's been over two millenia and we still don't know how to make friends with fellow man. It worries me. It doesn't worry me what we will do to ourselves, but what the consequences will be. We're just bad children with our parent not paying attention. We run wild and pick fights with each other, then the parent returns with a vengeance to punish us.
I think if we can't find peace, it'll just be Noah all over again. God will look us and be so horrified with how we treat our own brethren, how sadistic and low we've sunken, and He'll weep like He did before, not because of what we're doing but because of what He knows He has to do to us. And then the world will start to end and we'll all cry out, "But we're not really like this! Give us mercy! We're kind! We're good! We would've been better, give us a second chance!" But maybe this time there won't be an Ark to lead way to a new world. Because this is our second chance and if you ask me it seems squandered.
He keeps giving chances, over and over. When Adam and Eve disobeyed his single law, he didn't smite them. He simply cast them out and let them create their own paradise through strain and effort. When the world turned rotten, he wiped it out but let Noah and his family survive to start over again. When the world turned rotten again, he gave his son and sacrificed him for us. I know he's merciful and forgiving but even the best of spirits can only be pushed so far.
Every month my mind gets these deep thoughts brewed up and eventually they just surge forth all at once. And usually, each time, the thought turns back to nature of human spirit and morality, and I realize that no matter how good we might all be on the inside, we haven't the self-control to show it.
And then, usually, each time, I keep trying to think of a solution, how to make it all better...
And then, usually, each time, I'll realize that the only way is to simply erase the board and start with a clean slate. And then when I come to that conclusion, that to mend the world it needs to be destroyed first, I sometimes end up crying. Because there is no band-aid to moral defect. I'll never find one, no one will. We simply need to be wiped out. Maybe this isn't the first time. Maybe the universe is always in a constant cycle of creation and destruction. A forest will stagnate if it gets old, but burn it down and new life springs up immediately in its place. Maybe, long ago but unrecorded (or records destroyed), the world was made, before Adam and Eve. Maybe they were just another chapter, another Noah family, another Messiah, another chosen to repopulate, deliver, and save.
Why did He weep when we were at war in Noah's time? Why did He cry when his creations fouled-up? Why did He say, "That's it, I've had enough, you're all dead. It hurts me more than it hurts you. Noah, you stay, make a new world. Don't mess up this time"?
Maybe God is up there trying to see if an inherently selfish and sadistic** creature can actually overcome the tremendous greed of its own soul. And maybe when our God realizes that our willpower can't overcome that greed, He wipes us all out and starts again. Maybe the world restarting is not reward but punishment, and the cycle of death and rebirth will never cease until the collective spirit of humankind can use its God-given free will to extinguish its own selfishness, stop the cycle, end the world, and all will finally go into peaceful oblivion, reunited with Him as originally intended.
*There really aren't any differences at all, are there?
**Inherent once the Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil is eaten, that is.
Sure, But What Is Evil In The First Place?
Note: Sometimes, for the heck of it, when I'm bored, I'll make up conversations in my head. What if so-and-so said this-and-that there and then, how would I respond, how would that go, etc. And this is just one of those things, I suppose. The two people speaking in it are not necessarily me nor anyone I know, just the typical ultra-devout Christian who thinks that they know everything because Pastor told them so, and the typical free-thinking philosopher who thinks the best way to find the truth is to smash it to pieces first.
"You are evil for speaking this."
"What really defines it?"
"Well, the Bible says--"
"Yes, yes, I know. But forget all that. Let's make this areligious. Simply speculate. Play along, hm?"
"I know what evil is."
"I don't think you do. Allow me. Now, some define evil as selfishness. That fits. People have desires and act upon them at the expense of others, causing suffering without care for those consequences. Many people do this willingly. Would you define them as evil? Is the man who kills a child for the insurance evil? Is the woman who steals a dollar from a blind beggar evil?"
"Of course! Murder and theft!"
"Yes. But! What of you? Don't you desire things at the bereft of others?"
"Of course not."
"That dress you're wearing. Wouldn't it look better with jewelry? A hat? Nicer shoes? New purse? Maybe even a car. Everybody wants things. We might not murder and steal for them, but we want them. But do you want someone else to have the same jewelry, hat, shoes, purse, and car? Of course not. You wouldn't be unique anymore. You want them, but you don't want someone else to have them. That's desire at the expense and bereft of another."
"How about this. Today, you go out, and you actually do buy those shoes. You don't prevent other people from buying them unless it was the last pair. However, that fifty dollars of hard-earned cash could have just as easily bought a few meals for a few people who are otherwise less holding of currency than you. You buy those shoes, you deprive people of meals. Your desire has caused you to act in your own self-interest with no regard for another being, thus causing someone, somewhere to starve to death while you strut about in your sequined stilettos."
"You're reading too much into this."
"Precisely. That would make you world-class evil. You might have your moments, but you're not that steel-hearted. How about this. Maybe evil isn't doing something that deprives someone else of something. Is it the lack of doing good things?"
"Aha! But! What is a good thing? Donating, feeding, helping, healing, all of that. Following the guidelines of your faith. Ten Commandments, Middle Path, Three Baskets, Golden Rule, etcetera. But this is where it gets interesting. If evil is the lack of doing something good, whether you directly avoid doing goodness or you are unable for some reason, then that makes us all very evil. Right now I could be giving CPR to a drowning kid. Right now you could be donating to charity. Right now we both could be doing alot of things, but we're not, because we're preoccupied. But we're still not committing good acts. Does that make us evil?"
"When you put it that way..."
"You see? Yes, now...That leaves another option. If evil isn't doing something that deprives another, and it's not the lack of doing good things, is it directly acting against rules? The man who murders his daughter for the insurance. You'd say he was evil, right?"
"This is a trick, I know it, but I'll say yes."
"Aha! I never said going against the rules with the intention of causing more harm than good. What if he uses that insurance money to donate to multiple charities? What if he keeps nothing for himself? What if his daughter was terminally ill and in constant pain? What if she wanted him to kill her? Would denying and dishonouring her wishes be evil if he chose to let her live, knowing she would suffer? Knowing that the money her life holds would be otherwise not paying for people's meals and shoes? Or would it be more evil to kill her, simply because most religions say murder is bad no matter what the reason? Is it considered evil to commit a forbidden act with malevolent intent, or is it allowed if it's a forbidden act but committed in good intentions?"
"I knew it was a trick."
"Am I evil for tricking you?"
"I don't know anymore."
"Precisely. Before you start calling people evil, make sure you know how you define it first."
So how do you? Is evil the envy of others, or is such envy evil only if you go out of your way to deprive them of the thing you lust for? Is it evil to not commit a good deed because you are unable, or is it only evil if you purposely avoid doing good deeds when able? Let's put it this way. What's worse: doing something bad with good intentions or doing something good with bad intentions?
What Makes Anger Tick?
Note: In this thought, which I didn't even remember I had kept saved (it's drawn from a conversation, well, rant/rave I had), some of the things I say I've said in another thought. It may also seem very self-absorbed, self-obsessed, angry, and in general, a potload of concrete opinions. But I stand by the disclaimer I made before that these are NOT solid opinions, absolute truths, or in any way me trying to shove a belief down you're throat. It's just food for thought, some words to munch on. Although you're right that I'm angry in this thought. Because I was when I wrote it. I don't remember why.
It's the whole world. It always ticks me off because...I realized that every tiny social thing we do really don't matter in the end. I found out why children don't get stressed. They're always running and skipping and crying and laughing. They have no stupid inhibitions like the older people have, none of the reservations the rest of the society invented and imposes, they don't bottle everything in and obsess about how they're viewed, they just let it all out and they're always stress-free. But adults think that a show of emotion is a show of insanity. That the guy who feels so happy when he wakes up that he sings in the shower and skips to the supermarket is crazy and homosexual, that the woman who starts screaming because she's frustrated with her job is a potential killer, that the person who hugs people is a predator, that the person who cries when they get wounded is a coward and a weakling.
Why do people feel obligated to follow these sets of social interaction? Why do they feel it matters? They make themselves so hurt inside that it starts to hurt them on the outside and everybody's popping a fistful of pills a day just to keep the chemicals in their brains from leaking out their ears.
I think we're all like a horse in a barn. Let's say a farmer buys a horse when it's just born, and he puts it in a barn, and never lets it out. It doesn't remember the fields, it doesn't even know the fields exist outside at all, all it knows is the dark confines of the barn. It feels frustrated because it's not free, but it doesn't know it's not free because it's never known freedom in the first place, but it becomes aggravated and begins lashing out and kicking and biting because it's hurting so desperately on the inside because it's wants to reach the outside it doesn't think exists.
We're all tiny little aspects of god, little shards of demi-deity. He has the immense thinking capability and forethought to perfectly calculate the future consequences of every single action and event simultaneously, ie, he knows what's gunna happen when and how. We have a tiny little aspect of that. We can figure out the immediate consequences of certain actions and know what's good and what's bad, most of the time. But God also has an intensely strong willpower, and he is so knowledgable of the fact that doing bad things only hurts in the end that he never does evil because he can always perfectly resist temptation. But we are weak minded and weak willed. We give in to temptation easily, even when we know it'll end badly for us or someone else. That's the problem with our free will -- we have the choice to be good but not the strength. It's frustrating to be made in the spiritual image of a perfect spirit, but wer'e...cracked mirrors. We reflect what he is, but we're small and evil versions of him, little abstract manifestations of a greater good. We're...thoughts and images and mindsets made concrete, made solid, and we're bizarre and abnormal and very, very, very bad.
I just want to figure everything out. I want to know why and how and who and what. And I feel very sad and frustrated alot of the time, because I feel like I think more than most people would care to think about thinking. they're closest thoughts are those of money, the soonest wants are just matierals. And at the same time, feeling smarter than alot of people (they're choice, not mine), I also realize that the more I find out the less I really know. I keep thinking up contradicting theories and trying to tie them together, trying to sort out which ones are true and which aren't.
It's like I'm trying to do extremely complicated math solutions but I don't know what the problem is in the first place. I only know that one number may or may not be altered by another number in some fashion and that I have to figure out the sum/quotient/remainder in a certain time frame and I have no references to help me. I only know that there is a solution of some sort, and that it must reasonably apply to the universe in some way, but I don't know how I'm supposed to arrive at it.
My dad once said that life is just a series of fractals and mathemathical patterns and that the fractal you see when you press on your eyes is actually the algorithm to the universe. Maybe it is. Maybe when we were created God implanted the formulae of creation right there, literally, in front of our eyes. But it would be really hard to figure it out since you have to have your eyes closed and your hands pushing on them to see it in the first place. That way we can't try to write it down. Maybe he did that on purpose.
Who Created Whom?
We went to a race to watch Tyler in his car. Before he entered, they had a series of other races with people we didn't know, so I selected who to root for based on their colours. First I chose a powder blue truck to root for. I concentrated and focused my mind, repeating in my head the phrase, "Go go 24, you're my favourite colour!" and "You can win, you will win!" He had started in last place and every round he passed someone and finally made it up to first and crossed the finish line and won! And then suddenly it turned out some fluke about the height of his grill disqualified him entirely.
The next race came, and this time I rooted for a rich green car, number 4. Just like before I focused me mind and honestly envisioned him passing everyone, forcing him to pull ahead. He got up to first, almost to win, and then...he crashed. Something went wrng and he had to make a permanent pit stop.
By the time Tyler came to race I felt so dispirited I couldn't muster enough energy to focus that hard on making him win (I didn't think that sort of telekinesis worked, anyway, I was just rooting really hard, right?) and he didn't make it to first place, however...two cards crashed in front of him and he missed them by scarcely an inch and finished the race unharmed and still qualified.
Which brings me to the main thought.
Does perception honestly control reality? Was the world a flat plane of rock before Columbus sailed it and proved with his own eyes that it was round, and then suddenly it became so because he perceived it that way? Something will only exist if perceived. Our own perceptions of ourselves don't count, so what does? God, I would say, since he perceives all things at once. In fact he is such an incredibly inhuman thing that he does not actually see the future, he predicts it perfectly. We are small mortal aspects of him, only we have physical forms and he obviously doesn't. We have just enough foresight to somewhat, and generally inaccurately, predict the consequences of an action. His foresight is so spectacularly amazing that any time err and movement and distortion and action he can see every single domino, ripple, and butterfly effect outward and onward from there and thus knows the future. We are aspects of him because we ate the Fruit of Knowledge of Good and Evil, and just like Satan said this fruit makes us "like God" in that we know the difference between moral and amoral behaviour. Unfortunately now that we know about amorality we can act on it and unlike God we do not have the tremendous foresight and supreme willpower to resist evil's lure so we constantly commit selfish and unwise acts. God is not incapable of sin, he is just so smart he knows well enough not to do it.
But I digress. That's not the main thought at all. This is:
Did God create us, by forcing us, by willpower of perception, to exist?
Or do humans create God, and all other gods and spirits or lacks thereof, by our strong faith and willpower? Or do our existences depend solely on the existence of the other? Do humans exist because God thinks we do, and he exists because we think he does? Does every god and spirit exist in seperate overlapping universes of every single sentient being, just like many humans exist because of his mind to think we do?
As said by Carrol in Through the Looking Glass:
"Which dreamed it?"
I was thinking...When a disaster or event first happens, people can't get enough of it. They channel-hop endlessly looking for more and more footage, morbid curiosity getting the better of them. They don't really feel fear, or horror, or if they do they still watch the stories, over and over again. They look it up on the internet, they look for it in papers, they look for it on tv.
Then, after a while, the interest dies and no one wants to hear about it anymore. They push it away, channel-hopping endlessly to escape it. They can't even think about it anymore, just feeling dread and sick, and suddenly very very small and mortal as they subconsciously realize that life rarely has happy endings.
And then, decades later, people not alive when it happened look over it in history books and almanacs, half-awed, and at the same time never able to fully grasp the emotion and power of the event. It's just words to them, as empty as fiction. Usually it's just boring, and they don't like to read about it, while the victims turn in their graves at the disrespect to such an awful event.
The horror and shock all comes in one wave, piercing contented life like a sharp bang of a gavel, like a clap of thunder, a jarring chord in an otherwise perfect melody. And it washes over, becoming all the talk, the nation, the globe all feeling at once tiny and alone and yet at the same time as part of one larger community in search of a common goal - relief and peace and lack of pain. And then the wave is gone, passed over, and a new one rises up to take its place.
And people say nothing exciting ever happens.
What will I say to my kids and grandkids? I'll say, "When I was your age, two mighty towers in the hugest city were attacked out of nowhere and like a Jenga pile fell, and then a war broke out and it never seemed to end." I'll say, "When I was your age, an oil tanker ship crashed on the coast, intoxicating the landscape and poisoning animals and people alike." I'll say, "When I was your age, a savage string of earthquakes triggered tsunamis so phenomenal they wiped out entire islands at once."
You know, I never wanted to live long enough to see a war.
I think people do not roleplay to escape life. They rp to enhance it. They rp to outlet it. They rp to alter it. One might not be able to even think the word 'abuse' in real life, nor stand its act, but online their characters may be givers or takers of all manner of sadistic acts. But in the end, the character, if the person has the will to try, WILL overcome the problem. Their player seeks to bandage their real-life wounds by simulating ones in fantasy and then repairing them. I think the only reason a character succeeds is because how much in common it has with its player. Sure, neat idea characters are nifty once in a while, but they come and go. They are just things we thought like trying out, but failed. We wonder why. We wish we could play them more often, but are never in the mood. Why? Because they are not like us. We have nothing in common with this character; or at least, not enough to play them.
People say that all characters are just copies of other fiction; anime, movies, TV, books, you name it. They say that people are inspired heavily by media and so create a mish-mash collage of a character, made of the various bits and pieces they find coolest about what inspired them. Often this is true - but these characters are not taken properly and seriously, mostly because their player is not serious themselves. They are often simply 'newbs' churning out carbon copies of pop culture. They do not get better at rping. They eventually whittle into self-pity and depression and vanish from the rping world. And no one often cares, because relationships were shallow and half-hearted. Who likes to fraternize with a n00b?
But then there are the characters who are not emulations of other characters, but emulations of ourselves. These characters succeed. They are taken seriously. It's easier to play them; to get into their head, their personalities. Their players succeed, as well. Intelligence often improves as the player feels the drive to get better at rping. As characters form deeper bonds, so do the players.
Maybe you might not realize it, but I will test the theory in a list of character personality types and what sort of subconscious emotion or desire you're outletting. Do correct me if I'm wrong.
Character: Caring, gentle, nurturing. Either paternal or maternal. Probably with good healing skills, and equally great people skills.
Player: They may feel weak and unable to save those they love. Perhaps they've witnessed horrible things, or been the victim of it themselves, they seek to retribute by saving rp characters instead. Where they couldn't heal in person, be it from shyness, cowardice, or lack of ability, they can endlessly save in the fantasy world.
Character: Brutish, angry, temperamental. A bully or brawler. Probably the type who burns taverns down and kills NPCs. Picks fights with most PCs due to a sharp and arrogant tongue.
Player: Probably a victim of bullying themselves. They probably have no outlets for violent rage, so use tank characters to mow others down instead. When they feel threatened or angry in real life, they will probably pop online and use a rp to have an explosive outburst. Their character is probably quiet at first, then suddenly sparked into a fit of unstoppable fury and slaughter. When they know they can't or won't kill in real life, they do so in the fantasy world.
Character: Seductive, flirtatious, attractive. A slut or a man-whore. Probably the type who attracts the eyes of everyone in a room, and ends up sleeping with half of them. Is probably bisexual and wears skanky clothes (often black leather). Probably has long hair and a purring voice. Applies to either gender.
Player: Obviously very horny. Likely they do not get laid often enough, if at all, in real life, so sleeze around in rps. The character is probably criticized and insulted - but only by those not lucky enough to get laid by them. When they can't get an intimate relationship in real life, they do so endlessly in the fantasy world.
Character: Weak, victim, pitiable. Probably whimpery and whiney, and an avid crybaby. Also probably has a string of traumas attached to their past. Usually ends up unwittingly attracting violent attention.
Player: It's hard to describe to anyone who doesn't have such a character. But for those who DO have them, it's easy to know why they are great to play: that sickeningly sweet twist of the gut, a bizarre tingle as one puts themself in the char's helpless shoes, the great ecstacy when burden is piled on the PC. It, unlike other character types, doesn't seem triggered into creation by trauma or actual suffering. Moreso, it sprouts from a lackthereof; a seed of unsatiated masochism. The ones who maybe are too accidentily brutish in real life, unable to be the bottom dog, the ones who just can't get picked on; they do so in the fantasy world.
Character: Raped, abused, oppressed. Not to be confused with the whimpery type with many traumas; this kind of character is beyond pitiable. Only a small number of incredibly severe traumas caused this character's eventual and inevitable spiral into a gray depression, ended only by suicide.
Player: Probably, and sadly so, just the same. A victim of some sort of terrible abuse, they emulate themselves in a fictional victim. They probably are trying to solve the character's problems as though this will fix their own, as well. But oftentimes, even if the player hides it, they themselves are just as gray and deadened on the inside as the character. They feel sick after rps because their fantasy problems weren't resolved, so neither was their life. What they could not move on past, get over, heal from, or prevent in real life; they unfortunately do not manage to do so in the fantasy world.
"It's fantasy,", the justifying phrase for any sort of seemingly impossible action in a rp, sadly does not always apply.
Sometimes even make-pretend can't heal old wound.
Between the Pages
As anyone who knows me will know, quite a bit of my life and personality is dictated by my dreams (and I suppose on occasion the dreams of others). I have written novels based on dreams, I have known what
to wear the next day, I am told how my health will be when I wake up, I am shook in the night by such fear and pain that I buy many dreamcatchers to protect my mind and body. Dreams have caused me literal harm,
and sometimes prevented it, or forwarned me of it. To most people, dreams are nothing but brainfarts; random images and things in your head while you rest. This is usually true for me, too.
But sometimes you have that kind of dream that sticks to you, that won't let you alone, and you know there's something in it that you have to keep with you and think on forever. And I do love to think, so these
dreams are usually boredom-killer for me.
I had a dream once that was like this. Never have I had a repeat or even a similar dream to it. It is unique to me in all ways. It was so utterly divine I cried when I woke up, and sometimes cry still, years later,
out of longing for it again. And I have to explain it - why was this dream so different? Why did it feel like it was not just a dream, but something more? ...And I'm sure you're wondering: What was the dream itself?
I'll tell you.
I was just having my normal dream (some mundane thing about going to the theatres) when suddenly...I felt as though I slipped away, like I was between time, but above it, like I'd gone past the dream
realm itself and appeared somewhere else entirely. It was a beautiful, wonderful plane of existence, like a heavenly being had taken all aspects of loveliness and happiness and created an entire world of it. It was all
up and down, no side to side; like a giant, whirling cone of iredescent air. It was infinite; you could look up and down and see it go on and on forever, more eternal than the sky and sea. It had no physical properties;
there was no temperature hot or cold, nor gravity, nor wind or sun or air or water. It was a coalescence of complete and perfect good emotions. Time couldn't reach it either; none passed, but it wasn't frozen. Things
could happen but didn't, but did. I don't know if there were others there; there was certainly nothing -alive- there. I saw - or maybe, only sensed - floating, shimmering shades of white light, traversing this 'place'.
But it wasn't a place. What was beyond the barriers of the silver-gray fog? Was it infinite, or nothing? Space or not? I myself wasn't really there; I had no body, or at least no ability to perceive a body, or sense anything
physical. I could only see. But nothing else. No touch, taste, smell, or sound. They didn't exist there.
But the key point of this 'world' (I use the term usely; I have no idea if this was a place at all) was that it was all flooded with emotions. I had, for the split second I existed there, the most perfect filling of serenity.
The joy I felt was beyond my imaginings. I couldn't have conceived such utter tranquility in my life, or even in any other dream I've had. It was perfection, and I wanted to remain forever; nothing else even existed anymore;
I had no knowledge of anything, just happiness.
Then I slipped back to the regular dream. A short while later, I slipped back into consciousness. And then I cried because I wasn't 'there' anymore, and sometimes I still do.
So that is the prologue to my thought. I got to thinking quite a bit on this, and I had another one of those snaps in your mind when so many things fall into place. So here is my 'what if'.
What if all of physical reality were composed of ultra-dimensional 'layers'? These layers are invisible, and stretch, overlapping all of reality, in all directions; the layers have no set position or axis. They are
compressed together to form what we perceive as the four dimensions. In metaphorical terms, they are the edge of a ream of paper. If you were to draw a picture on the side of a book, when the book is closed,
the edges of the paper come together with all their aspects of the picture and form it in completeness. That is our universe. Physical being is all just many many many many many tiny pieces on just as many or
more 'paper edges', the layers. They are usually kept pressed shut. But just like a book, these layers may become thin, allowing interaction between the physical and the metaphysical. Our spirits, or souls, reside
on this metaphysical plane (for you fantasy freaks, imagine it as a cross between the astral and ethereal planes). The spirits are always in relative position to their bodies, overlapping and controlling empty
biological shells to interact with other shells and physical things. We are the shells, at least, our bodies are. When we die, the shell ceases to function and the spirit loses its ability to interact with the physical
realm. Perhaps it loses all traces of memory, is wiped clean, and the fresh and empty soul is stuck into a new body; aka, reincarnation. Perhaps not everything is erased, and bits and pieces remain, allowing people
to remember vaguely their former lives. Perhaps they remember but don't realize it; aka, deja vu.
Or, perhaps instead, the spirits find no new bodies, do not ascend to their respective afterlives, but instead wander aimlessly on the metaphysical plane. Sometimes they may find those thin pages, where the
barriers between our world and theirs is tenuous enough for minor interaction. ...Hence, ghosts. Hence, tarots and fortunetellers, and seers and oracles. Psychics possess some profound ability to traverse, mildly,
the metaphysical...and as I said, there are no dimensions there (including the fourth, time), so they can see into any moment of time or space or whatever else. Ghosts are the opposite; the disembodied souls can
traverse, mildly, into our world, and cause interference or interact.
But what if, perhaps, the 'book' were opened? Pockets or air would bubble between the pages; ultra-dimensionsal mini-universes would bubble between the layers. Their very laws of physics would not only differ
but may not exist, depending if any physical reality leaked into the bubbles or not. They are more than likely totally uninhabitable by any being in our own cosmos. They are more than likely very well beyond
dimensional barrier. For those who don't know what the dimensions are, they are the measurements of width, height, depth, and time. Two dimensions is simply width and height, hence why drawings are called '2D',
because they have no depth (or time, for that matter). We are composed in three dimensions and constantly travel the fourth.
But between the layers - the pages of the Cosmic Book of Everything - there are no dimensions; without these measurements and finities, the universes may be limitless. Or perhaps without physical
measurement nothing physical can reside there and only the metaphysical (such as souls) can travel there.
Perhaps, in my dream, by freak accident I slipped between the pages. Perhaps my soul (not body) scraped for a moment through a thin layer. But only for a moment, and never likely to happen again.
Or perhaps it was just one extraordinary dream.
Heaven and Hell
What makes Heaven Heaven?
I have wondered so much. Would we not miss our beloved ones on Earth? Would we not still know the evils of the world, all problems left unfixed, of wars and famine and poverty? Of the evil in every woman, man, and child's heart, whether dormant or active?
Ignorance is bliss.
The only way for us to be so happy in Heaven is, of course, ignorance. Let me rephrase. Why IS there evil? Why does mankind ruin itself? The Fruit. You know which one I mean. The one the original couple took a bite of, the Fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. That's what ruined us. As soon as the juices hit their mouths, they realized they naked and felt shame. Foreveron, all of humanity must pay the price of their single sin. Succumbing to our own evil and hurting ourselves more than any other force could, we pay the price of knowledge.
So in Heaven, I merely speculate, that our knowledge is erased. We know nothing of evil. We remain so forever.
Then what makes Hell Hell?
Surely, the opposite of Heaven: Knowledge.
Who needs lakes of fire and whips and chains? There are many alive who suffer things as great or greater than that already. All we need is to know of suffering, and thus suffer ourselves. Earth seems Hell enough already.
So perhaps we are reborn?
Perhaps, instead of moving on to another, abyssal plane, we remain on Earth, reborn again human, with the same potential of knowledge and suffering. We continue this cycle forever, on and on, suffering over for the sins in our past lives, cursed by Karma.
Hm, sounds like Hinduism and Buddhism.
In those two religions, to stop the cycle of reincarnation on Earth, one must reach enlightenment, otherwise known as Nirvana. Then, and only then, may one stop the cycle of rebirth, and their spirit may move on in peace, no longer burdened by the suffering of life.
Perhaps these religions interconnect. Perhaps they aren't so different; they are one in the same, but with different names for the same ideals.
Then what's Christianity's Nirvana?
Why, the Christ, of course.
You realize the truth to life; you realize the Christ. You are enlightened. Your spirit is set at peace. The cycle stops. When you perish, your knowledge of suffering is wiped and you enter Heaven. Or perhaps Heaven is simply another name for the halting of reincarnation. I haven't speculated that far yet.
If you fail enlightenment in your life; if you fail to accept the Christ, the cycle continues. You are human again, on Earth, on Hell.
For what sort of a forgiving and merciful God would not give his beloved children infinite second chances?
The Plane of Dreams
I keep thinking...what if there's an alternate, shifting, chaotic plane of sub-existence where every person who ever is, was, or will be exists, whether they're aware of it or not, and their own identities and memories can change each time they access this plane?...that this plane is that of dreams? I mean...when we dream...it is so realistic. We can't tell that it's imaginary. We are dead-set and convinced that it's real (sometimes not, I suppose, but more often than not). And we can't even seem to remember who we really exist as, we ARE whoever we are in the dream...our real life seems distant and muddled, pushed on the back burner of our minds. But when we wake...it's reversed.
Dreams become the distant, confusing reality, and we are dead-set convinced that THIS is the real world...but there are those who...dream constantly. The insane...living in a constant dream. What if they have...access to the dream-plane, always? because it is parallel and overlaps our own? that their mind as receded into a state of subconsciousness allowing them to view the world we cannot while awake?
I once had this dream, see, where I met this boy and we hung out and were friends and blahblah and then suddenly I realized it was a dream.
And I said to him, "I have to tell you something...You're not real. I'm dreaming. This is my dream. You're just a figment of my imagination. As soon as I wake up...you'll cease to exist."
And he said, "What are you talking about? Of COURSE I'm real..."
And...I don't know. Tt always kind of stuck to my brain like pancakes in an unoiled frying pan. What if he was real?
They're not bound by any of the dimensions. Depth, width, height, time...not applicable to dreams. Which is why they have 'weird logic', I guess. Why things can be flat or deep, big or small, but not quite fixed.
People say I think too much.
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Photo courtesy of mambostock.