Painting a Concept
I have been thinking a lot... about death.
The painting of rebirth, the concept of being born again... what does it really mean?
I thought, at first, certainly being born again is a thing of suffering. In this life, every person is weighed down by burdens and mistakes. They suffer from the pain inflicted on them by others, and they regret that which they have afflicted to others. Life itself is a cycle of pain and suffering, and to die and be born again eternalizes that suffering.
I thought, at another glance, it could be relief. Supposing that one is reborn, all the memories of the life before are forgotten. The slate, as it were, is wiped clean... the chance to be something else- someone else- is a cycle of mercy and forgiveness. Can we be free from suffering by the power of forgiveness? Christ, maybe so.
And then again, rebirth is something quite beautiful. From decaying earth, corpses of life long extinguished, a new life begins. A bud begins to blossom. Something awe-inspiring and wonderful emerges from the chaos and destruction of a former life. Growing again, loving again, living again- how indescribably beautiful. Love between a ghost and a mortal.
Mortality is the ghost that haunts the living. It is the life that you take and have taken, and what you can ultimately make out of such a stolen life.
Why, do we die? Why, then, born again?
All the universe is a cycle, and cycles of cycles... and that is reason enough.
So where does this cycle end? Can a cycle really, truly end? Then indeed, it is not a cycle at all, but the illusion of a cycle. If the universe is infinite, it has no beginning nor end... and in it's unfathomable span could merely be the illusion of eternity.
Maybe I hope this is so. That eternity is an illusion and some day everything will have its end, is not so unbearably sad a prospect...
...that this moment will end, should it not be sad? Should it be comforting?
But, alas, as a human, it is my nature to be sad at such a prospect.
End? No! I don't want this to ever end! Good things, certainly, I do not wish for them to end. But if sadness and suffering can end, so too can such pure joy. If life and love were all pain and suffering then the prospect of an end- of death for life and love- should not be so frightening... but it is, and that is because the sweetness and joy found in them are so well coveted and greedily held on to.
That sweetness that I have tasted makes me fear all the more of cycles and ends... That love that I felt in my heart must not be consumed so greedily, then, so that the end could be delayed... Life must not be lived so amorously, wistfully if it should be prolonged.
A moment of suffering... should we wish it to have an end? If that means that good things too, have their end, perhaps it is better to hope for eternity.
An eternity of suffering or an eternity of joy, not knowing which will be one's fate- should one wish that such a thing as eternity exists?
When is the moment that we can realize which is the case? Suffering or joy, eternity or finite existence? How can we know? Can we ever know?
Though it pains me, still, I must think on it more.
The painting of rebirth, the concept of being born again... what does it really mean?
I thought, at first, certainly being born again is a thing of suffering. In this life, every person is weighed down by burdens and mistakes. They suffer from the pain inflicted on them by others, and they regret that which they have afflicted to others. Life itself is a cycle of pain and suffering, and to die and be born again eternalizes that suffering.
I thought, at another glance, it could be relief. Supposing that one is reborn, all the memories of the life before are forgotten. The slate, as it were, is wiped clean... the chance to be something else- someone else- is a cycle of mercy and forgiveness. Can we be free from suffering by the power of forgiveness? Christ, maybe so.
And then again, rebirth is something quite beautiful. From decaying earth, corpses of life long extinguished, a new life begins. A bud begins to blossom. Something awe-inspiring and wonderful emerges from the chaos and destruction of a former life. Growing again, loving again, living again- how indescribably beautiful. Love between a ghost and a mortal.
Mortality is the ghost that haunts the living. It is the life that you take and have taken, and what you can ultimately make out of such a stolen life.
Why, do we die? Why, then, born again?
All the universe is a cycle, and cycles of cycles... and that is reason enough.
So where does this cycle end? Can a cycle really, truly end? Then indeed, it is not a cycle at all, but the illusion of a cycle. If the universe is infinite, it has no beginning nor end... and in it's unfathomable span could merely be the illusion of eternity.
Maybe I hope this is so. That eternity is an illusion and some day everything will have its end, is not so unbearably sad a prospect...
...that this moment will end, should it not be sad? Should it be comforting?
But, alas, as a human, it is my nature to be sad at such a prospect.
End? No! I don't want this to ever end! Good things, certainly, I do not wish for them to end. But if sadness and suffering can end, so too can such pure joy. If life and love were all pain and suffering then the prospect of an end- of death for life and love- should not be so frightening... but it is, and that is because the sweetness and joy found in them are so well coveted and greedily held on to.
That sweetness that I have tasted makes me fear all the more of cycles and ends... That love that I felt in my heart must not be consumed so greedily, then, so that the end could be delayed... Life must not be lived so amorously, wistfully if it should be prolonged.
A moment of suffering... should we wish it to have an end? If that means that good things too, have their end, perhaps it is better to hope for eternity.
An eternity of suffering or an eternity of joy, not knowing which will be one's fate- should one wish that such a thing as eternity exists?
When is the moment that we can realize which is the case? Suffering or joy, eternity or finite existence? How can we know? Can we ever know?
Though it pains me, still, I must think on it more.
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