I'll gently rise and I'll softly call, "Good night and joy be with you all."
Sometimes I think.
Ha. Thats a funny way to start an entry. Some half-baked sentence, only a portion of an idea not even that, really.
Well, I fly out tomorrow morning. This whole trip seems like an exercise in futility to me. I dont know how to interact with someone who's dying. I dont know how to make the people around them feel any better. I dont know what anyone wants from me. I feel tired. I wish I had more to offer. But conversation/advice has never been my strong suit.
If I could communicate telepathically, like in Julian Mays stories, I would simply let the walls fall and let them see whats inside my heart and my mind. They would see my sorrow, buried so low that even I cant find it, they would see my sympathy, and they would see my confusion and my frustration at my inability to communicate.
Things would be so much simpler, utilizing the meshing of minds. Even Teilhardian Unification seems plausible to me; a simple higher consciousness that allows such intimate mental rapport that crimes against the fellow man become crimes against the self, making cruelty and indifference impossible. I wish we could make it there. My pessimistic side says well blow ourselves up or flood the planet long before were anywhere near the maturity needed for such an expansion. But it also seems to be our only hope.
Our crimes are wholly our own, in my opinion. We dont need Satans help; were fucked up enough as it is. I think Christians are just looking for someone, anyone to blame instead of themselves. Its a whole religion based on convenience. O holy Convenience, well believe any fucking far-fetched crazy story as long as it removes responsibility from ourselves. Its useful to project your own insecurities onto some benign (yet somehow jealous and vengeful) old white guy in the sky. Jesus hates fags, its not me, its my God that makes me hate you!
Well fuck that. I assume full responsibility for my misdeeds. I admit that my inability to communicate is probably based in my fear of exposure, my laziness, and my inadequate sense of empathy. Ill blame it on my overly clinical mindset; I have to think everything, even my emotions. I hardly feel anything, except regret, love, and disgust. Any other emotions are analyzed, (insufficiently) explained, and then filed away so I dont have to look at them too much.
Maybe Im too hard on myself. Maybe I really do believe what I say I believe; that only life can be sad, not death. Dying is painful and living is hard, but being dead is nothing. I dont think the soul really exists. The only afterlife I would want to believe in is one where you simply observe, or are reincarnated. I would like, when I die, to see all the ripples spreading out from my life; all the effects of my existence, and the lives of those I love. And then, I want to simply let go, to not exist, to merge with the Cosmic All, the mind of the universe. Maybe.
That would be interesting, anyway.
Ha. Thats a funny way to start an entry. Some half-baked sentence, only a portion of an idea not even that, really.
Well, I fly out tomorrow morning. This whole trip seems like an exercise in futility to me. I dont know how to interact with someone who's dying. I dont know how to make the people around them feel any better. I dont know what anyone wants from me. I feel tired. I wish I had more to offer. But conversation/advice has never been my strong suit.
If I could communicate telepathically, like in Julian Mays stories, I would simply let the walls fall and let them see whats inside my heart and my mind. They would see my sorrow, buried so low that even I cant find it, they would see my sympathy, and they would see my confusion and my frustration at my inability to communicate.
Things would be so much simpler, utilizing the meshing of minds. Even Teilhardian Unification seems plausible to me; a simple higher consciousness that allows such intimate mental rapport that crimes against the fellow man become crimes against the self, making cruelty and indifference impossible. I wish we could make it there. My pessimistic side says well blow ourselves up or flood the planet long before were anywhere near the maturity needed for such an expansion. But it also seems to be our only hope.
Our crimes are wholly our own, in my opinion. We dont need Satans help; were fucked up enough as it is. I think Christians are just looking for someone, anyone to blame instead of themselves. Its a whole religion based on convenience. O holy Convenience, well believe any fucking far-fetched crazy story as long as it removes responsibility from ourselves. Its useful to project your own insecurities onto some benign (yet somehow jealous and vengeful) old white guy in the sky. Jesus hates fags, its not me, its my God that makes me hate you!
Well fuck that. I assume full responsibility for my misdeeds. I admit that my inability to communicate is probably based in my fear of exposure, my laziness, and my inadequate sense of empathy. Ill blame it on my overly clinical mindset; I have to think everything, even my emotions. I hardly feel anything, except regret, love, and disgust. Any other emotions are analyzed, (insufficiently) explained, and then filed away so I dont have to look at them too much.
Maybe Im too hard on myself. Maybe I really do believe what I say I believe; that only life can be sad, not death. Dying is painful and living is hard, but being dead is nothing. I dont think the soul really exists. The only afterlife I would want to believe in is one where you simply observe, or are reincarnated. I would like, when I die, to see all the ripples spreading out from my life; all the effects of my existence, and the lives of those I love. And then, I want to simply let go, to not exist, to merge with the Cosmic All, the mind of the universe. Maybe.
That would be interesting, anyway.