An Entrance to a Gold Mine
99% or so of the ideas you have came from somewhere and were tossed into you. For the most part, your ideas are not original. They were sewed onto you. For you to see otherwise may not even occur to you. Guilt, for instance. There is a big to-do about guilt, and that it must be long-lasting, as though guilt were a virtue, as if penance were a virtue, as if you were to expiate guilt.
What is guilt but not knowing then what you know now? Tell Me, is that a bad thing? Regret is the same. Regret is another time-and-heart waster.
What are the worst things in the world, so says the world, but death and illness. What if death and illness were seen as friends and not enemies? What if death were a reward for living rather than a death sentence? What if illness were a good doctor who removed ill-health and restored balance? Certainly, illness means to be curative.
Death is an entrance to a gold mine. Death is a ride in a tram car that takes you over the rainbow. What if death were seen as a non-event to be rejoiced in? What if death were a graduation from body and soul to exclusively soul? What if there were applause for death, and death were not seen as the Grim Reaper? What if death were seen as a culmination of life, more like a knapsack one carries over his shoulder as he passes down a certain road? Death is a free pass given one at a time to all those who are ready to move on. Sooner or later, bodies die. And everybody will receive that free pass that ushers him into a world beyond the senses.
What if there were no such thing as leaving another? Even if one departs, as funeral homes like to say in a solemn voice, what if there is no solemnity to death? What if mourning no longer starred in the world?
Death has not yet visited you who stay behind, and you carry on as if you were guilty of a loved one’s death. Death of the body was destined long before you arrived on the scene. The body is only the body, after all. It held a recipe for life on Earth. There is nothing to mourn but a body that remains. How dear and magnified is the might of a beloved body.
Precious to you are the now remains. No matter, the body was a car that had a due date. The body is only all you say it is. Yet sooner or later, it is a vehicle you turn in.
Leaves fall from trees. Childhood grows into adulthood. The body was ever a changing thing. No one keeps it forever, and why would you think so? Practically speaking, what would the advantage be?
The body is a false idol, beloveds. Love the body, but do not make a shrine of it. True, it housed a soul, a mighty soul, and now the soul has gone on to greener fields. Its time is over. Such a big deal does not have to be made over a body. A body is, after all, only a body. The known but unseen soul had a good send-off back to where it came, and, from where, actually, it never left. The soul of the body was always where it is now. There never was a leaving. A circle was rounded. All loose knots were tied. Of death of the body, you do not have to make such a big to-do of it. Enjoy the moments of life. Give up mourning and guilt and regret and all such things and rev up life instead.
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