We don’t have souls. Soul has us. Soul is the attribute of the infinite Consciousness to individualize Itself. Physically we are not really alive—unless we define life as biological constructs designed for a prolonged suicide, leading towards and unavoidable and inevitable demise. Termination. Whatever we are by this definition, we shall be no more. Ever.
What gives us awareness of life is individualized consciousness, which exploits the abilities of the bodies which it developed over millions (elsewhere billions) of years, to manifest the infinite potential within Itself. If we identify with our physical body that is destined for early corruption, we identify with a dying corpse. Arrigo Boito, using Iago’s monologue in Verdi’s Otello said it best:
Dalla viltà d'un germe o d'un atòmo, vile son nato,
[From the cowardice of a seed or of a vile atom I was born… …I feel the primitive mud in me.]
Iago identified with that that is corruptible. From dust to dust… We can do better. If we identify with life within us, we are immortal. What some of us find hard to accept is that physical universe is only a means to an end. It has no meaning in itself. Nevertheless, the means are extremely important. They serve to enrich the consciousness that dwells within us.
Perhaps in a few million years we shall no longer be quite as vile, as evil, as corruptible as all matter is. Perhaps we shall progress to identify with energy that holds the dust together, rather than with dust itself. Perhaps even with the life within and not with the skin it wears?
We spend billions of dollars to sustain and prolong our physical envelope’s ‘life’ only to spend the last few years in the throngs of Alzheimer’s or Dementia. Is it really worth it? Hasn’t Mozart done more with 35 years than most of us with 90 or a 100? We all know that he identified with his life within. When I listen to his Requiem, I am absolutely convinced of it.
And Yeshûa? He needed but 33 years to fulfill his mission. Perhaps long life is not an award, but punishment for us not doing our job we were intended to do. And thus we are sentenced to aches and pains and sicknesses of old age.
Or, perhaps, it is just our ignorance?
Deep, ingrained, abysmal ignorance?
It is not death we should fear. We should fear not fulfilling the purpose for which we have entered a human form and wasted all it has to offer. Then we might indeed live long and… suffer?
I did not invent this philosophy. Socrates drank hemlock rather that give up his beliefs. There were others. There is one book that attempts to explain life better than most others I’d read. It is the Gospel of Thomas from the Nag Hammadi Library. My exegesis is called Key to Immortality. It really is—for me. See if you agree.
To write a review on Amazon and elsewhere of
GET YOUR FREE DOWNLOAD AT
while the offer stands