For we that live, when we lose someone to death, death becomes a storehouse of discontinued dreams, of unanswered questions, of unfulfilled dreams and desires, of unanswered problems of regrets and remorse, self-hate, self-love or unjustified guilt and shame.
When someone dies, their life becomes an unfinished biography, a book with a plot that hangs in the air, an ever silenced half-finished dream. Death hides bundles of lies never admitted, of sins never confessed, of love or hate turned inside out. The death of a friend or loved one, reduces everything to nothing, leaves us with suspended memories that can heal the soul, break the heart, distort the truth or justify the intentions of the survivor's imagination.
Why does death mean so much and life mean so little? Why is death a million miles away and just around the corner? How can death be unwanted, unanticipated for some, welcomed as long lost friend, a conquering hero for others? Why is death both the question and the answer, the problem and the solution? Death can be the beginning of the end or the end of the beginning.
We do not talk of death, it is a subject like religion and politics to be avoided. Why? How can ministers preach so convincingly about death when they have never experienced it themselves? Why must they rely on the words of a long dead God whose writings fill thousands of pages and are subject to as many interpretations?
Who can be more knowledgeable about death than those who have been there and have experienced it at first hand? But those who have experienced it cannot return to share their experiences and their expertise with the living. We hold faith that there is an afterlife, and we have religion and other fakes, fraudsters, and mystics who show us the way. Yet they depend on dead spirits and ancient text, and images floating in the afterlife of the hereafter to convince us?
To ease the pain and loss of loved ones when they die, we invented gods, religions, all the gospels and all the angels including the horned, long tail devil. When we listen to those who preach of life hereafter, or of reincarnation or in other forms of life after death we suspend our critical thinking. Why do we not ask who invented heaven and hell or why it was invented?
When I die please do not cry, or be sad, walk away and celebrate my life by being the best you can be.
When someone dies, their life becomes an unfinished biography, a book with a plot that hangs in the air, an ever silenced half-finished dream. Death hides bundles of lies never admitted, of sins never confessed, of love or hate turned inside out. The death of a friend or loved one, reduces everything to nothing, leaves us with suspended memories that can heal the soul, break the heart, distort the truth or justify the intentions of the survivor's imagination.
Why does death mean so much and life mean so little? Why is death a million miles away and just around the corner? How can death be unwanted, unanticipated for some, welcomed as long lost friend, a conquering hero for others? Why is death both the question and the answer, the problem and the solution? Death can be the beginning of the end or the end of the beginning.
We do not talk of death, it is a subject like religion and politics to be avoided. Why? How can ministers preach so convincingly about death when they have never experienced it themselves? Why must they rely on the words of a long dead God whose writings fill thousands of pages and are subject to as many interpretations?
Who can be more knowledgeable about death than those who have been there and have experienced it at first hand? But those who have experienced it cannot return to share their experiences and their expertise with the living. We hold faith that there is an afterlife, and we have religion and other fakes, fraudsters, and mystics who show us the way. Yet they depend on dead spirits and ancient text, and images floating in the afterlife of the hereafter to convince us?
To ease the pain and loss of loved ones when they die, we invented gods, religions, all the gospels and all the angels including the horned, long tail devil. When we listen to those who preach of life hereafter, or of reincarnation or in other forms of life after death we suspend our critical thinking. Why do we not ask who invented heaven and hell or why it was invented?
When I die please do not cry, or be sad, walk away and celebrate my life by being the best you can be.
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