Started by swiftcobra15 · · 👁 4 views · 54 replies
bluebison70 said:So, what would immortality actually look like?
Would it be this endless process of changing while somehow managing to hold onto who you really are?
Or, if we assume there’s a core part of a being—an actual "me"—that stays constant while all these changes are just things that essence observes, like watching a play unfold, then maybe chasing immortality is just the desire to keep watching those plays forever, even as they constantly change.
steelridge58 said:If that core is what remains unchangeable and defines our very essence, then all these shifts and performances stemming from it could be seen as a way for that essence to "shed" everything that isn't truly itself. Basically, all our different versions and life stages might just be this "excess"—a byproduct of the essence releasing everything else to keep its true center untouched. But here’s the thing: if all these changes are just "excess," my entire being is nothing more than an attempt to grasp that excess, trying to use it to get closer to the essence itself—to that thing that discarded everything that wasn't an integral part of it.
But why would it work like that in the first place?
Why would I feel this drive to reach my own essence when I'm perfectly fine with my current versions, especially if every change reveals something born from that essence—even if the change itself is just a manifestation of that "excess"?
Maybe it’s because I’m just not okay with how things are.
Maybe it's because these changes have become so overwhelming that I'm getting lost in all this "extra stuff" and I honestly don't know where to put it all.
I don't even know who I am anymore.
What is my essence telling me? It feels like pain.
Its version of immortality, if such a thing exists, suggests a "place" where death began—a place the essence can no longer sustain because it keeps rejecting it as something foreign. So, death, or the fading away of a certain part of a person, becomes a kind of "release" for the being, bringing it closer to the essence by freeing it from one specific persona.
Based on how I'm looking at it, 🙂 the pursuit of immortality wouldn't be about the essence wanting to watch infinite shows; if only the essence is immortal, then maybe its true desire is to end the shows altogether—or rather, to strip away everything that isn't an essential part of it.
Think about it: if love is the fundamental core of every being, perhaps it *is* the essence itself. Everything that doesn't belong to that love would just be a temporary performance, lasting only as long as the essence continues to reject it as something that isn't true love.
The essence simply refuses to be fooled.
So what's left, if every single performance is ultimately destined to die?
I guess all that's left is to hunt for your own essence. To let the various versions of yourself die off while you're still living. To maybe, just maybe, find oneself face-to-face with that which has no face, no age, and no name. To stay as close to that—to oneself—as possible, breathing in rhythm with the universe.
I don't know. All I know is that dying isn't anything new, and neither is living.
p.s. Or is it actually the exact opposite?
Actually, looking back at what I just wrote, it feels like this whole thought process is just another form of an essence that is constantly shifting. Just like life reshapes itself into death, and death back into life (?). I suppose nothing can exist without the other.
I didn't recognize you right away (in this new incarnation 😁), so I thought
it was quite a coincidence that we gained a new little sage just as we lost Vivian. 👍
Lawrence Robinson5 said:I used to have this incredibly wise grandmother who would sit me down and walk me through the Bible during those years when I started finding certain church dogmas just completely repellant. She’d explain the whole symbolism behind numbers in Revelation, dive into the Gospels, and get into the core essence of Jesus's teachings... but we wouldn't stop there; we’d wander into Indian philosophy, deep literature, and fine art too. Now, she never had any formal higher education—she only finished fourth grade back in her small town—but man, she was a voracious reader. It really goes to show you that a school diploma doesn't define how much someone actually knows. Honestly, she seemed to have way fewer prejudices about life than most young people do today.
She passed away last summer, and I remember feeling this absolute, profound sense of peace at her funeral: the day was gorgeous, nothing but mild weather, with these crisp white clouds drifting lazily across the sky, and I could only think about how she couldn't have asked for a more beautiful send-off than that.
I loved her dearly, but even as far back as I can remember, death hasn't really scared me; I’ve always had this unshakable gut feeling that everything is unfolding exactly as it should, and that there’s simply no room for sorrow here.
In a way... Castaneda got me thinking about all of this a long time ago. Regardless of whether his books are pure fiction or not, there’s some real wisdom tucked away in those pages that you shouldn't just brush aside. (I mean, strictly speaking, all art is fiction anyway—but it still holds onto truths we can lean on when everything else falls apart...)
One thing he constantly hammers home is this: death is the advisor standing at a person's left side. Why an advisor? Because it’s only when we confront the thought of death—of our material existence coming to an end—that we actually find the spark to live fully, without regrets, without wasting time, and without that endless loop of "what ifs." And why on the left? Because that represents the internal self; essentially, the advisor isn't anyone else, it's just us.
The thing is, though, I feel like we view death—just like we view life—as a single, discrete event. Like it's something that happens once and that's it. But it isn't. To me, it's a constant, pulsing reminder of change, which is exactly what we try so hard to deny because the unknown is terrifying... which, I suspect, is also why children accept themselves and the world so effortlessly: they embrace change, living and flowing right along with it without getting bogged down by over-analysis.
Once cognitive awareness and that analytical drive start kicking in, this need for pausing and pondering emerges. It’s a double-edged sword; it’s useful, but it can become an addiction—this insatiable craving to interpret and understand everything through logic. But logic only works in a vacuum, in a timeless environment with a limited number of variables. Constant change is what kills logic, because it keeps introducing new variables that make the whole system impossible to grasp, since the complexity just keeps growing...
The thought of death is the one thing that forces the *ratio*—our rational mind—to step back, leaving us open to the flow we are actually part of. It’s perhaps the ultimate tool for true perception. But our lazy, over-thinking attention usually only notices it when it hits us drastically, when it snatches away something we consider familiar and vital... and we miss the fact that it's happening all the time. Our cells are dying every single second; our bodies are constantly rebuilding themselves. A part of US dies and gets replaced every moment, yet we don't give it a second thought! Actually, we can't. Every thought stays stuck in its own little bubble, and all that’s left is that childlike understanding: pure gratitude and wonder.
So, really, we’re all just addicts. 😁
The wise ones are just philosophers in recovery... or maybe they've already made it.
(And I don't mean they don't think—they just know exactly when to think and when to just let things flow—which is honestly the hardest lesson any of us can ever learn.)
Ultimately... every time I’ve felt truly unburdened, it was in those moments of non-thinking... those pockets of intense presence where thought retreats to the periphery and I can just focus on observing, listening, and feeling. In those moments, you merge with the experience and you stop asking questions. You flow as an individual-within-the-whole, like a kind of synergy...
But obviously, we had to ask the question first just so we could give a name to that synergy. We had to step outside in order to return inside. That's the rhythm. And rhythm is everything. 🙂
= creation
How can one even begin to wrap their head around the idea of non-existence when consciousness is essentially everything there is?
We can debate the quality of consciousness or how reliable it actually is, but its existence isn't really up for discussion.
So, how exactly do we leave our mark on the generations to come?
If we stick strictly to Western rationalism, there are really only two ways to look at this:
It’s fascinating to consider how much our traits are shaped by genetics. I was reading an article about heredity recently, and it really makes you wonder how much of our identity is hardwired from birth.
Education and upbringing—essentially acculturation—is really about that pressure on young people to follow our traditional paths.
How on earth can you use these two combined models to even begin explaining the sheer genius of someone like Albert Einstein?
Even if you only look at this on the surface, it’s clear that such a thing is simply impossible.
It seems most logical to conclude that he was born with that innate genius; his solid genetics and education were simply the lucky circumstances that allowed him to finally bring it to life.
I’ve always found myself leaning toward what geneticists suggest: we are essentially blueprints of our parents—just imagine Albert being a direct reflection of his own lineage. I truly believe that through education and constant learning, we finally gain the tools to step out from their shadow and forge our own path.
In our pursuit of immortality, we don't just pass on our DNA; we increasingly strive to mold our children into cultural mirrors of ourselves—an attempt to ensure our own values and legacies live on through them. 😁Fortunately, they usually don't succeed at it.
I’d like to pose this question once more. Why is there this persistent assumption that life must have a definitive beginning?
The concept of "The Beginning of Life" is essentially a mental construct that we use to make sense of our existence. It’s something I often find myself pondering during my quiet morning walks through Central Park.
No. That argument simply doesn't hold water; there’s just no reliable evidence to back it up.
bluebison70 said:Do you even realize what long live death actually implies? It’s not about long live death, it’s more like long live life...
steelridge58 said:Think of them as two wild lovers, Life and Death, basically kids playing at being adults. Every time they cross paths, Life raises a glass to Death with a "long live death," and they clink their glasses together. And then she responds with a "long live life!" It just goes on and on like that, an endless cycle where neither can ever truly get enough of the other. Honestly, it’s like they’re tethered together by some invisible force; they can never truly walk away from one another.
Harold Adams5 said:Lovely 🙂steelridge58
I was at an exhibition in Vienna (over at Kusthale) recently
titled "long live death""
It featured contemporary artists from Latin America
exploring the concept of mortality through some pretty fascinating pieces.
In that part of the world, the cult of death is matched by an equally intense passion for living.
It goes without saying that there can be no death without life...
But I've noticed that some people over at the university philosophy department still don't seem to grasp the fundamental relationship between life and death.
Simply put, if life has begun, it will inevitably reach its conclusion. If it never began, there is no end to speak of.
Harold Adams5 said:it’s not just some fascist slogan, it’s more like a whole culture,
this specific 'folklore' of a people,
their entire passionate way of life:
everything from their style and love to... music and art itself.🙂
Francisco Franco used that phrase as a manipulative tactic—
he was playing on what people hold most sacred.
bluebison70 says:
"forgot that plants don't need to feed off other living things."
Let’s revisit the core question: WHAT IS LIFE?
So, does life exist as a singular, unified entity?
We can usually define any concept by looking at its opposite:
Living things can die, whereas non-living things cannot.
That makes living beings mortal. But is "life" itself mortal?
Nothing lasts forever... but does life itself have permanence?
What does it actually mean when an individual strives for immortality?
what would immortality even look like?
Would it mean constant change while somehow maintaining a consistent identity?
Ultimately, living beings cannot emerge or survive without the death of others.
coastalskipper92 says:
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coastalskipper92 says:
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coastalskipper92 said:That signature of yours is quite excellent—wise and understated.
Quote:
coastalskipper92 says:
I’ve already become rather agitated—I don't subscribe to the idea of constant change, but rather a stable core that improves itself by remaining in harmony with its essence—especially after reading this:
Quote:
coastalskipper92 says:
The "play" metaphor isn't quite right in my view; it's not the precise term, though the sentiment holds.
I would replace "play" with the caterpillar-to-butterfly progression.
Which is what life actually is:
Per aspera ad astra (my mobile wallpaper greeting)
Or perhaps, preparing for FREEDOM.
In this world—traveling is Freedom.
Freedom isn't an escape; it is the starting point and the destination, a sense of peace.
This life is merely an obsession... one can live through it wisely and happily, provided you don't get too caught up in the muck.
My perspective. Metaphysical = life.
[/INDENT][/INDENT][/I]
I’ve already become rather agitated—I don't subscribe to the idea of constant change, but rather a stable core that improves itself by remaining in harmony with its essence—especially after reading this:
Quote:
coastalskipper92 says:
The "play" metaphor isn't quite right in my view; it's not the precise term, though the sentiment holds.
I would replace "play" with the caterpillar-to-butterfly progression.
Which is what life actually is:
Per aspera ad astra (my mobile wallpaper greeting)
Or perhaps, preparing for FREEDOM.
In this world—traveling is Freedom.
Freedom isn't an escape; it is the starting point and the destination, a sense of peace.
This life is merely an obsession... one can live through it wisely and happily, provided you don't get too caught up in the muck.
My perspective. Metaphysical = life.
[/INDENT][/INDENT][/I]
I’ve already become rather agitated—I don't subscribe to the idea of constant change, but rather a stable core that improves itself by remaining in harmony with its essence—especially after reading this:
Quote:
coastalskipper92 says:
The "play" metaphor isn't quite right in my view; it's not the precise term, though the sentiment holds.
I would replace "play" with the caterpillar-to-butterfly progression.
Which is what life actually is:
Per aspera ad astra (my mobile wallpaper greeting)
Or perhaps, preparing for FREEDOM.
In this world—traveling is Freedom.
Freedom isn't an escape; it is the starting point and the destination, a sense of peace.
This life is merely an obsession... one can live through it wisely and happily, provided you don't get too caught up in the muck.
My perspective. Metaphysical = life.
Think of life as a bridge—don't go trying to build a permanent house on it! 😉
I’d like to pose this question one more time. Why do we operate under the assumption that Life itself must have a definitive starting point?
An individual living being has a "beginning"—which is somewhat arbitrary since they are produced by another living thing.
The idea of a singular "Beginning of Life" is just a mental construct that
simply lacks any reliable foundation.
The fundamental relationship between life and death is this: everything that begins must eventually end.
Conversely, if something never had a beginning, it cannot have an end.
Therefore, if life had a start, it will have a finish. If it never started, it can never end.
As simple as that!
