Monday, June 8, 2009
In response to theOX...
If you have anything further to say, I'd be glad to hear it. I take interest in your peculiar responses to my fellow classmates. If you'd rather not hold a mature conversation, or think that you are incapable of doing so (you did hint that you failed out of class), then ADMIT your own personal shortcomings and KINDLY MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS rather than make childish, inane statements on others' blogs, especially assignments that you ought to know are not undertaken with any goal other than for passing the class.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
This I Believe video project
The following is my This I Believe project, both transcript and video. It is what I believe; hence the title of the project being, "This I Believe." If you'd like to comment on the essay, feel free to do so. It would be greatly appreciated, though, if commenters refrain from delving into a philosophical or religious debate. I am not writing this to prove, disprove, or bicker about any spiritual realm that may or not be. If you don't agree with my ideas regarding such, kindly buzz off and keep your aggressive postulates to yourself, or post them on a blog debating such. Thanks a bunch.
Earlier on in my life, I considered myself fairly lucky to have so many family members. I had pets, aunts, uncles, cousins, godparents, grandparents, and even a great-grandmother. Of course, nothing, and no one, lasts forever. The only downside to having so many family members is that they’ve all got to go at some point.
The first to go was my father’s father, but I couldn’t really know what to think of that. I hadn’t really known him, seeing him perhaps once or twice a year, and was also fairly young. As a result, the funeral was a strange experience. My godfather’s death, on the other hand, was much more distinctive and destructive. He was around almost all the time, and died on a cruise. Because of the nature of his death, the body vanished for fear of biohazardous bacteria, or something along those lines. Just like that, a close friend, gone. My great-grandmother was apparently already on the way out, so to speak, suffering from a failing mind and considerable confusion, so I was upset but not very surprised when she died. Her peaceful passing, compared to her nervous and troubled state of existence prior, made it easier to accept her death. And, of course, the pets also have their time; in the space of a day, one of my cats suddenly fell ill and died due to gradual degradations of undetectable cancer.
Of course, there’s no point in repeating this solely to focus on the misery and anguish of death. It’s inevitable and harsh, and certainly everyone has seen the chaos it wreaks on survivors. However, there’s one pleasant thing to be gained from these grim surprises, one thing that at least I believe in.
I suppose the critical shift came when I began to see dead people. Not any dead people, and not in everyday activities; no, that would be disturbing. But in my sleep, I would dream and see whatever my mind created, and occasionally I would see the deceased. Occasionally I still see the deceased, but it would primarily occur shortly after the death of the visitor. It seemed similar to some final comfort before they headed their separate ways. I could clearly hear the voice, see the person, and it appeared to me that I wasn’t merely dreaming. For example, my godfather and mother’s parents kept two cats, one of which died; following my own cat’s death, I saw my cat with my grandparents’ cat, which were both with my godfather. And they all acted, sounded, responded to me as they would, as they did, before death; there was a clear presence.
Whatever it was, be it some supernatural revelation, an active and grieving mind, or whatever I ate for dinner, it was something. And the more I knew, the more that I saw in my sleep. The more I remembered, the more that I had experienced, the more realistic the dreams became. I’ve never been able to actually converse with these dead, but I personally believe that they are there. Wherever there may be.
Now, some philosophers have reasoned that all is within the mind of God, that the physical world is the manifestation of the spiritual world. If that is so, perhaps that is what my dreams mean. Perhaps there is life after death, within one’s own mind. Perhaps there is a universe within the mind where one can recreate their life, the existence they knew, as philosophers believe God did with this universe. Of course, if one hasn’t lived, there can’t be a world to create; there are no paints, no ideas, nothing worth drawing.
I believe that the purpose of life is to live, so that at life’s conclusion there is a place where your mind can go. Think of life as a template and as a buffet; the more you see, the more you can keep. And the more dreams can become realistic, the more senses can perceive, and the more fulfilled one can be in the end. Death might be final, but it certainly doesn’t have to be such a dreaded horror. Consider it a deadline, pardon the pun, announcing when the research period ends and the main task of eternity begins. And, after all, so long as one has memories, nothing will ever truly vanish.
I intend to see, do, and understand as much as possible, knowing that everything that was still is, still can be, when my time comes. I still have fears, doubts, but at least I have a belief. And that belief is telling me that I am never alone, that those before me have lived and now have their eternity, and that before I can receive mine there is still so much that has yet to be done. My belief about death is what allows me to live.
Earlier on in my life, I considered myself fairly lucky to have so many family members. I had pets, aunts, uncles, cousins, godparents, grandparents, and even a great-grandmother. Of course, nothing, and no one, lasts forever. The only downside to having so many family members is that they’ve all got to go at some point.
The first to go was my father’s father, but I couldn’t really know what to think of that. I hadn’t really known him, seeing him perhaps once or twice a year, and was also fairly young. As a result, the funeral was a strange experience. My godfather’s death, on the other hand, was much more distinctive and destructive. He was around almost all the time, and died on a cruise. Because of the nature of his death, the body vanished for fear of biohazardous bacteria, or something along those lines. Just like that, a close friend, gone. My great-grandmother was apparently already on the way out, so to speak, suffering from a failing mind and considerable confusion, so I was upset but not very surprised when she died. Her peaceful passing, compared to her nervous and troubled state of existence prior, made it easier to accept her death. And, of course, the pets also have their time; in the space of a day, one of my cats suddenly fell ill and died due to gradual degradations of undetectable cancer.
Of course, there’s no point in repeating this solely to focus on the misery and anguish of death. It’s inevitable and harsh, and certainly everyone has seen the chaos it wreaks on survivors. However, there’s one pleasant thing to be gained from these grim surprises, one thing that at least I believe in.
I suppose the critical shift came when I began to see dead people. Not any dead people, and not in everyday activities; no, that would be disturbing. But in my sleep, I would dream and see whatever my mind created, and occasionally I would see the deceased. Occasionally I still see the deceased, but it would primarily occur shortly after the death of the visitor. It seemed similar to some final comfort before they headed their separate ways. I could clearly hear the voice, see the person, and it appeared to me that I wasn’t merely dreaming. For example, my godfather and mother’s parents kept two cats, one of which died; following my own cat’s death, I saw my cat with my grandparents’ cat, which were both with my godfather. And they all acted, sounded, responded to me as they would, as they did, before death; there was a clear presence.
Whatever it was, be it some supernatural revelation, an active and grieving mind, or whatever I ate for dinner, it was something. And the more I knew, the more that I saw in my sleep. The more I remembered, the more that I had experienced, the more realistic the dreams became. I’ve never been able to actually converse with these dead, but I personally believe that they are there. Wherever there may be.
Now, some philosophers have reasoned that all is within the mind of God, that the physical world is the manifestation of the spiritual world. If that is so, perhaps that is what my dreams mean. Perhaps there is life after death, within one’s own mind. Perhaps there is a universe within the mind where one can recreate their life, the existence they knew, as philosophers believe God did with this universe. Of course, if one hasn’t lived, there can’t be a world to create; there are no paints, no ideas, nothing worth drawing.
I believe that the purpose of life is to live, so that at life’s conclusion there is a place where your mind can go. Think of life as a template and as a buffet; the more you see, the more you can keep. And the more dreams can become realistic, the more senses can perceive, and the more fulfilled one can be in the end. Death might be final, but it certainly doesn’t have to be such a dreaded horror. Consider it a deadline, pardon the pun, announcing when the research period ends and the main task of eternity begins. And, after all, so long as one has memories, nothing will ever truly vanish.
I intend to see, do, and understand as much as possible, knowing that everything that was still is, still can be, when my time comes. I still have fears, doubts, but at least I have a belief. And that belief is telling me that I am never alone, that those before me have lived and now have their eternity, and that before I can receive mine there is still so much that has yet to be done. My belief about death is what allows me to live.
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