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ReCycled Souls

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posted on Dec, 12 2018 @ 07:01 PM

I've no real clue about the whole thing, but as much as I believe anything, I believe I must've done something to end up here in the first place.

The creator of this place has a sharp sense of irony, so at least I get a real good laugh from time to time.

posted on Dec, 13 2018 @ 09:52 AM

originally posted by: cooperton
The evergreen is perhaps an example of what could be when we escape this cyclical death sentence - known as Moksha or the Passover.

Interesting comment!

I can't decide for myself if death/rebirth is a thing to rejoice (we never truly die) or, as you put it, a "cyclical death sentence" to be escaped.

I read this interesting quote in Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being" which has come back to me many times over the years.

We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it to our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.
Was it better to be with Tereza or to remain alone?
There is no means of testing which decision is better, because there is no basis for comparison. We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? That is why life is always like a sketch. No, "sketch" is not quite a word, because a sketch is an outline of something, the groundwork for a picture, whereas the sketch that is our life is a sketch for nothing, an outline with no picture.
Einmal ist keinmal, says Tomas to himself. What happens but once, says the German adage, might as well not have happened at all. If we have only one life to live, we might as well not have lived at all.”

I'm not convinced on that last sentence in there (might as well not have lived at all) but have always been pretty intrigued by the rest of it. Good book

Your comment reminded me of this quote of Opal Whiteley's (she was an extraordinary child genius/naturalist in turn of the 20th century Oregon)

Now are come the days of brown leaves. They fall from the trees; they flutter to the ground. When the brown leaves flutter, they are saying little things. They talk with the wind. I hear them tell of their borning days, when they did come into the world as leaves. And they whisper of the hoods they wore then. I saw them--I used to count them, on the way to school. Today they were talking of the time before their borning days of this springtime. They talked on and on, and I did listen on to what they were telling the wind and the earth in their whisperings. They told how they were a part of earth and air, before their tree-borning days. And now they are going back. In the grey days of winter, they go back to the earth again. But they do not die.

I wrote a thread about her some time ago, and in case you're interested here's the link.

Strangely enough, she also had memories of a different set of parents, what she called her Angel parents.

The wheels for this thread began turning when I saw a newscast about a local genius boy and his mom said that he told her when he was very young that he picked her.

I've thought quite a bit about souls after death, and only a little bit about the soul before it manifests here. I'm becoming more convinced that we have more of a choice about where/when we show up than we know.

posted on Dec, 13 2018 @ 09:54 AM
a reply to: DictionaryOfExcuses

Hey there!
Yes, the humor/irony that I see in creation is actually quite delightful when I think about it.

Hope you're having a good one!

posted on Dec, 13 2018 @ 10:11 AM
a reply to: zosimov

I have subscribed to this thread and will catch up when I have more time. I remember your other thread and bought that book.

Have a lovely day Zos and people of ATS.

posted on Dec, 13 2018 @ 10:35 AM
a reply to: Night Star

Always good to hear from you, lovely Night Star.

Hope it's a great day and weekend for you and anyone else who reads this!

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