THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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its a place that is different to each person. if a persons idea of a beautiful day is blueskies and birds singing, then that is what they experience. but if a person(like me) enjoys a slightly overcast day where the soft light is ambient and has no discernable source and its lightly raining then that is what they experience. in this magnificent place you can meet everyone who everlived(i dont believe in hell i think everyone goes to my version of heaven). and you can watch the world of the living as thought it were just a soap opera. also you can do what ever you want to do as long as you dont hurt anyone else. you could fly, sleep all day, smoke up every 5 mins, have a massive orgy, make love to the person you love most, sing all day, draw, write, talk, whatever you want to sadly though this wonderful place is only temporary to me bcuz i believe after visiting this place for a while(varying from time to time) you are reincarnated as another human being to live, love, and die all over again until you have learned all of lifes lessons after which time you get to stay in this wonderful place for all of eternity sadly though no one really remembers this beautiful place during life. some dream of it and have visions but they only see part of it and make it conform to their religious beliefs. which is a great travesty. heaven is for all not just "gods chosen few" |
im saying this bcuz my friend just read this and asked me if i was a muslim now.(silly little white boy, isnt he?) |
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I think it's a little arrogant to think that our morals are the Universes morals. If that makes sense. Human's aren't such hot stuff. |
and although i didnt think of distant neighbors when i had my epiphany, im sure they would fit in my heaven just fine. |
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No trick dispels. Religion used to try, That vast moth-eaten brocade Created to pretend we never die, And specious stuff that says _No rational being Can fear a thing it will not feel_, not seeing That this is what we fear - no sight, no sound, No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with, Nothing to love or link with, The anaesthetic from which none come around. --excerpted from "Aubade" by Philip Larkin |