Monday, June 29, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
I won't waste time on individual rationales. What difference does it make whether there are two destinations after death (e.g. Christian) or three (e.g. Norse). I see little value in comparing and contrasting the imagined details of insensible locations. Humans have created countless religions, all populated by spectacular persons and places, all reflecting the societies from which they arose. They are scattered along our historical trail, discarded each time to be replaced.
While I find the individual details of religions only of historic interest, I do have a facination with why they are created. Why does just that individual religion arise from just that society? More specifically, why does that society imagine that afterlife, why those specific details? Ideas of the afterlife find their origins in the minds of men, and they also, in the nature of the location described, reflects these same minds.
What does the nature of an afterlife tell us about its adherants?
What does an afterlife tell us about the needs, and societal stressors of its origin societies?
The concept of life after death is not founded on verifiable information. It does not have its origin in first hand reports or observable data achieving anything close to adequate scientific veracity. Resist the temptation to quote your holy book, cultures much older than yours have also held beliefs similar enough to be called life after death. Man has long entertained an idea consisting primarily of continuation after death. We have entertained this idea under the cover of numerous rationales, each replaced after sufficient generations by a new rationale. None of these afterlife rationales represent the folding in of new information, rather they are themselves folded into new religions, co-opted as it were into new cultural expressions.
Why do humans entertain the hope of a life after death?
What are the origins of this peculiar hope in an afterlife?
What benefits, for society or individuals, promote the maintenance of this belief?
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
The future does not exist. Not yet. It is only an anticipation, a personal expectation. Expectation of trouble can bring stress, grinding of teeth, and the hasty throwing of unnecessary baggage overboard. Expectation of ease can bring calm, smiling mouths and the piling up of decisions unmade. The future colors the present, tainting responses with expectation, with imagined reality.
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Time is not the medium we move through. I can move through the medium of water and air, but I do not move through time.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
"Whenever we read the obscene stories, the voluptuous debaucheries, the cruel and tortuous executions, the unrelenting vindictiveness with which more than half the Bible is filled, it would be more consistent that we call it the word of a demon than the word of god. It is a history of wickedness that has served to corrupt and brutalize humankind; and, for my part, I sincerely detest it, as I detest everything that is cruel."
What to write…
I feel that I should write something.
Some record of my moment.
I'm at a crossroads. A moment of decision presents itself and there is nothing to be done but to decide. I called my most trusted friend. My phone died before we could converse to a conclusion or as near to as friend conversation brings such internal struggles.
Now I just want to sleep. Scotch has dulled my wits and made me ready to forget. The problem is that the forgetfulness of scotch is temporary and upon the next wake up the unresolved issues will remain and more than remain, they will demand attention again. Scotch is no escape.
I doubt much of my conversation as diversion from the main topic. I doubt my rational. I doubt myself.
What rational could make my life sensible? Who could ever have sympathy with me? I look to forsake what the world values in favor of what it does not understand. To choose a path that is hard to understand is to choose to be an outsider, a voluntary minority.
I must live, and not die. I must choose life. I must choose a life that I can find livable. What else can I do?
I have been wrong so many times before. I have chosen to miss out on the lives of my friends and family, I have chosen my appetites, my predispositions.
I wish to say nothing other than I am becoming. I know that I am slow. Others have realized life before me, and have embraced meaningful living when I have not. I am not sure I can ever assimilate to their decisions, even if I envy their positions.
I can say that I act honestly with full understanding of my risk and potential of failure. I can say this but I say it with an internal chorus of contempt.
I was never taught how to live. I was never shown how to accept life. I have been fighting to find a balance. I claim progress in this. Not much maybe, but some, some real measurable progress. I have not lived in vain. I have made some headway in the act of living.
This dialog wants a conclusion, a resolution, but none is forthcoming tonight. Tonight scotch will have its way and I will sleep. I will sleep soon. When I awake I will take up again to the yoke that I have accepted and that I will never put down. What more useful way to spend life can I find than loving family and friends? I will do what is in front of me. I will do that which is clear, and put aside that which is not.
This is not a conclusion, although I worry that it is a decision unknown.