I really don't know who or what I am. I don't think anyone else does either, but a lot of folks believe they do, and that's enough for them. But what does any of it mean? It's likely to be totally inconsequential, and this entire paragraph is a pretty good illustration of how seemingly impossible it is for me to really, truly relate to people.
I seem to be pretty open minded, and by that I mean that I very much enjoy pondering all sorts of ideas about the nature of reality. I was raised as a Christian, but it didn't explain a damn thing about anything to my satisfaction. Besides, nobody seemed to really care about the "love each other" bit, so I moved on with my time and focus.
Actually, I spent the tail end of my Christian worldview as a self-styled Satanist, but when I got to a place that considered that the mythology was simply not the case, I stopped being so murderously hateful toward myself.
I went through being a pagan, but I couldn't really believe any of that either, and it's hard to distinguish the culture from the philosophy so often that it would have felt like appropriation, and I'd rather avoid that can of worms.
So where did that leave me? Questioning. Everything. I am an extremely mental creature, and any belief system I consider for long has to make sense, has to incorporate the evidence and take into consideration universal tendencies.
I can't say that I envy people who have faith in things they can't prove (mostly because it seems to be blinding them to other possibilities) partly because I have some unprovable ideas myself. Ultimately, all of it could be wishful thinking in a purely physical brain, or (more likely), delusional projections from a broken mind dreaming the entire universe and all its alternate realities and its infinities of rebirth.
There are no answers to be found in the world because I'd have to be out of the world to see the bigger picture. Brighter minds have pondered the same questions for depressingly ever, and the only way out seems to be from Realization. It's such an important term that I am going to Capitalize the Shit Out of It.
This is how I used to visualize the Apocalypse: it was the journey we take as we die. I thought it happened to each person as they passed away, back when I still believed in an afterlife. I thought there might be one big one during my lifetime (because, like so many who have come before and will come after, I came to Earth for something Important), but I didn't think people had to wait around to get into heaven.
I thought it was something intensely personal and specific to each individual, because it had to be. Two people can commit the same act for vastly different reasons, and it can't be judged so narrowly as to be black and white. We can see our errors and change our ways, or we can keep our pride and justify our actions to ourselves and keep going.
It's funny to say that reincarnation saved my life, but really, I would have offed myself a hundred years ago if I didn't believe I'd just come back again. But the purpose of reincarnation cannot be to just keep coming back as other people. Hell no.
We can get out of here, stop the merry go round, and fly away. And there can really be only one ultimate goal. I mean sure, you could keep cavorting about the universe in a myriad of forms and lives, but what's the point if you don't figure out what you are?
Realization. If you know, you stop not knowing. You don't look for the things you're holding in your hands unless you don't recognize you have them.
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