Is death our mother? 

Standard

Honestly, 

What’s the point of living if beyond living there is nothing? Beyond dying there is nothing. I don’t see the point in any of it. There is no “heaven” and the heaven that you think is heaven is beyond the self so the you that you are now won’t be then. You don’t experience “pleasure” you experience nothing. Because there isn’t anything. So to bring yourself out of something is the hardest thing. Maybe the glory is killing yourself. 

Maybe that’s how you reach nirvana… but knowing that dying is okay. So if dying is okay – then why do we wait to die? What do we experience pain, suffering and hate only to die? Yes there is love and goodness and joy – but are those even real emotions? I mean chemically speaking yes. All the neurons fire in the brain to create a release of hormones that create an emotion – so truely what is the point of living if death is the ultimate end. Why do I need to go through this suffering of existing when I don’t even need to be me. 

They say we go through a journey of self discovery – but do we ever find ourselves? Who has turkey found themselves? No one – why? Because no one exists. This is all just a made up world in my mind. It’s my world like the one you’re living in is yours. There is no point in “living” only happening. We only “happen” so why not end the happening before the “projected date” the fate of us all lies in dying. We will all die there is no difference in you or me because we both will die. 

Death does not segregate, does not go unpunished, does not hate, isn’t bias, in a twisted way, it loves everyone equal. Maybe the good die young because death loved them more. If death was a mother, everyone would go to her. But why do we all not? Our ego drives us to be contained in this world – to drive us to end with nothing.

Or if death was our mother were we born from her? Absolutely… we are all made from a death of a star, a death of a tree to decompose to make fertilizer to become another tree – a death of a person to become another person. A cycle. A woman’s cycle, our earths cycle. 

And I’m not upset. I don’t say these worlds because I’m mad or angry or sad. Yes events have brought me here but I’ve been this way since I was a child. I remember being upset at 10 years old. For reasons I could never explain. I was in therapy since I was 8-9 and I could never get it “right”. So honestly is a chemical imbalance that you people stay here? Or that I’m still here? What was the first person that came to be say – hmmm I think living is good so I’ll make more. Was it evolution or God? Could it have been both? Are we puppets to a game to inhabit a planet for a few centuries while a slower race (not mentally but timely) measure our chemical reactions? 

Advertisements

What IS Reality?!

Standard

It is but a dream, a perception of the senses that create a chemical compound to create an image or emotion. Like music in a car or a motion picture. How is it that the “energy” from a computer chip creates a sound or an image that creates a real emotion? But it’s not in front of you, yet this emotion from the music or movie feels real. It pulls you in, you get into a funk after a sad or crazy one, one that makes you think. 

So what different in a trauma of a dream, and real life? This is in my head – all the senses penatrating my brain. Sight, smell, taste, touch and hearing. All of my dreams are real. How is it that I can’t determine the real world and the dream world? I wake up to a familiar scene but that familiar scene can be one of a “reoccurring dream” so I implore what is the real reality? Isnt it that a scene is so monumental in a movie that it’s pulls you closer into the screen? You can’t turn away because of the depth of your feelings – you have no idea who or what is around you – only this moment in a movie. It’s a moment in my mind of these senses that captivate me in this world. How is it that I feel like I can feel other worlds? 
They exist, I’m not talking about aliens, yes those are quite possible – but I’m not all about it, obsessed that they do, I entertain the thought because how is it that I could ever know? Honestly? How is it that I know anything? How can my brain store more or less than yours? How does someone remember something but not another? Chemicals, emotions, feelings. It’s the self. This ego, this soul.  

I, I, i, i, i…. me me ME! That’s how. This is hell. This reality in which we are punished from oneness. 

Dreams; hell. Senses; hell. Life; hell. 

I’m the Bible it says hell is a burning firing pits. That pit in your stomach? That heat when you’re angry? Anger is love’s fear. God IS love. Anger is the separation from God. So here I am living in this hell with only a glimpse of what true love really is. What GOD is. What I’m meant to be – with God. Not as a me or I, but as in love morphed into nothingness and everythingness with God. Because we are made in his “image” in which our human language can’t properly communicate.