No one has a clue what is really going on. Who are we? Where are we? Why are we here? What should we do? Whose idea was it to blindfold us?
People cling to life down here and they’re terrified at the moment of death. Then they pass through, kicking and screaming and find themselves in a far better place. Now what was all that fuss?
Let’s be real:
This is not the best of all possible worlds. It is a kind of Purgatory where the ego is burned away. So much beauty and so much pain. But highly habit-forming, addictive delights abound. The pleasures of the senses. Yet they lack the power to sustain.
What holds us together in the madness of incarnation is the love. It’s the thread that knits us into the tapestry. Without love this world would die.
So we come through the gauntlet again and again, wondering what is the point of it. Until one day, we start to see things a little differently. The ego weakens, perspective is earned here through the experiences we have. Eventually, the thickest will break free of the spell.
From within the limits of this dense subjectivity we try to find our own way. We learn humility over many lifetimes of egocentric wandering. It’s all about us, isn’t it? Me, look at me …
In the end, if nothing else then boredom, that old reliable clean-up crew will at long last win the day.
No longer mesmerized by my reflection in the pond, I will eventually begin in earnest to search for answers. My view of life evolves. At the moment of death, will I say “Thank God that’s over!” Or will I balk? Cling to my ego. Beg for life?
Ah life! It’s so confining. This body with its five senses and its ecstatic pleasures is compelling, there’s no denying that. But when the mortal fascination wanes, we ought to move on to weightier matters. How about the well-being of our immortal soul? Is that as important as a night of sexual indulgence or a day of self-indulgent musing.
When we begin to see the limits of this existence, we set aside blissful ignorance and put on the mantle of maturity. There’s suffering at stake. Pay attention!
Is maturity the requirement for parole? is this some form of juvenile rehabilitation? Useless as long as we are in love with ourselves, the ego is slowly burned off, layer by layer, until the mature spirit emerges at last.
And then what?
And then you get out of here. Death is a liberation.