| The Problem with God [+ favourites]
I recently debated with a religous friend of mine, who studies the Bible in college. Something she said, though, struck me as odd. She said "God is perfect.". I thought about it, and that is the only thing that doesn't exist in reality. Perfection. Then I thought to myself, what if perfection did exist in this reality? Would we slowly make everything perfect? I couldn't imagine a reality with perfection, there was something wrong about it. It later occurred to me that perfection, or lack thereof, is the only thing keeping us alive. If there is nothing we can perfect, then there is always work to be done, always more to do. I thought it interesting to imagine a place where everything is perfect. I imagined a reality where all of my dreams came true and it was beautiful, for a while. In order to have everything perfect though, you have to live in artificiality. I thought that once all of my dreams were fulfilled, there would be no reason to go on living, nothing to work toward. I think Christianity has it right though, that when you die, you live with God forever and he is perfect. But I have another name for God, his name is nothing. Nothing is perfect. When I die, I go into nothingness and all of my dreams are fulfilled, because I realize when I die, that my mind in life was simply a pocket of nothing, a little taste of the afterlife, and when you die all of your thoughts become as vivid as reality. So I lived out my dreams of this life, I couldn't believe everything had turned out as I hoped. I mean, I thought I died but I must not have. But like all dreams, there comes a time when you realize that everything you see is something you thought up. You later realize that you are God and that you can do whatever it is that you please when you're nothing. So you do whatever it is that you please, time is not an issue. But when the time comes that you grow bored of playing the hero, playing the villian, of knowing all of life's greatest mysteries and greatest pleasures, you decide to forget once again. And so you are born in a random time, to fulfill a random event, however petty it may be. Beautiful.
"I try my best to be just like I am but everybody wants you to be just like them."
|