From the Skulls to the Stars, and all the in between.

Title:  From the Skulls to the Stars, and all the in between.
(From Death to Eternity, and all the in between is Life. The Life we choose. )

Claim: Let us make the hypothesis that Dracula was in the know: “The blood is the Life.”

Assumption? I assume that: The Bones is Death, and the Spirit is Eternity.

Conclusion: Do not fear death, for it is the stimulant of our vitality and fuels an ardent desire for the Life. Do not ignore Life, for it is what will enrich our soul and galvanize our Spirit for Eternity.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Abstract:

I fear Death because I don’t understand what happens after it pays you the morbid visit. It is not so much the act of it, but the aftermath of it. I fervently resist accepting that our time in this universe, our Life, is but a speck of dust in the wind, or a drop of water in the ocean. It seems too short to make good use of it. How can I possibly make the most of it? How can I even aspire to attain “the good life“ in the Socratic context? Unfortunately, I am not convinced this is possible for all people.

So you have once shot, one chance, to use the tools and opportunities wisely and to your advantage and there is no operating manual. You make choices and take decisions which have consequences that often snowball and show you how life is never without a sense of irony.

Keywords:  Karma. Nemesis. Divine Justice. Fate. Destiny. Luck. Religion.

Notions that indicate powers exist beyond the grasp of man.  Some refuse to believe in such 'rubbish'. The argument is that these concepts exist to comfort the weaklings, the frail, the little people who cannot bear the burden of their own actions weighing down like lead on their shoulders, or to act as doctrine and to deter them from harmful actions, through the fear of retaliation. These disbelievers are assured that Man can make his own destiny if he seizes the day and conquers his fears, and thus engraving a bright journey in the sands of time.
Yet I find it selfish and utterly egotistic for any man to make such claims with an air of vanity and the tone of affectation dripping from his lips.

'Stick it to the Man.'

I am not religious because I neither believe nor disbelieve in God; I neither believe nor disbelieve in Aliens as Man would depict them either. I would like to keep an open mind about both convictions and not take sides, just yet. I have not seen nor felt any proof of either's existence in the 28 years that I have been breathing. Besides, I am fond of the thought that I am way too young too delve into Cosmological discussions. Such matters are more fitting to be discussed by wise, elderly men with spectacles and long Gray beards over glasses of aged and glistening Cognac. Hmm...the portrait of the wise old man reminds me of something... Keyword: God?

Overriding Keyword: Proof.

I like proof; it makes things easier for me and I find comfort in it’s simplicity. It renders the hard cold evidence or facts that compel the mind to accept an assertion as being true. Belief is not part of any scientific equation; belief is not knowledge or truth, and truth is never a belief. This is one fundamental element in the branch of philosophy that is Epistemology but I am neither a scientist nor a philosopher. All I know in my heart is that fact and evidence is cold and servile to proving a theory.

Belief, now, that is warm and passionate and full of energy. Whether it be belief in some things that cannot be evidenced like reincarnation, like the fields of Elysium, like metaphysics in general or whether it be in some things that are frequently all around us but we sometimes cannot see or grasp them such as love, hope and dreams, belief in others and belief in yourself.

Epilogue:
Because you cannot prove something does not necessarily make it less real, less true. To believe in something that is dear and close to your being, that helps you become a better person and makes your actions have a higher less selfish purpose then it is enough for it to be real and true to you and that is what enriches your soul and spirit. It is all those things that will help you attain a worthy ‘in between’ from the skulls, to the stars.

Bibliography:

"Nothing as mundane as mere evidence can be allowed to threaten a vision so deeply satisfying." Thomas Sowell.

No Time

'No time.' For something as perpetual as time, it's so contradictory to never have enough.

Time is one of the few perpetual notions that humans have identified as part of our own need to comprehend life. The universe, the world, our world, our existence is shaped around time. Antiphon the Sophist has said that "…time is not a reality (hypostasis), but a concept (noêma) or a measure (metron)"; a concept to help us bring a metric order to Chaos, with the general consensus relating to its introduction being after the Big Bang.
It is intangible, it is relentless, it only moves forward. The glory of the present moment only lasts for a fragment of time, and each moment is experienced for its brief existence, then it belongs in the past and a new present one takes it place. A continuous sequence of present moments, that creates its relative sequence of moments-of-gone, leaving a trail of events called ‘Past’ behind for the little Hansels and Grettels to find in the ‘Woods of Forever’.

The brevity of the life of the present moment is harsh; or convenient; I cannot decide. Or maybe I do not have to decide if I agree to accept that time is relative. Funny how time flies by when you’re in a state of elation, where one hour can seem like a minute; awful how it can also run slowly, when each tick is laden with torment when you’re experiencing a personal disaster, or when you feel you are dancing with the devil.

We are told that time heals; it acts as morphine, numbing your inside, emptying the mind, easing bad present moments that are now past ones, the past-er they become, the further away you hear the echo of the door being slammed in your face, the shattering of your broken heart, the wailing of your voice at that accident, or the regret in taking the wrong decision. Got to have the morphine. Gimme it.

But let’s suppose no one gives you the drug. Let’s suppose you have no choice but to surrender to the despair of a bad present moment instead of trying to tip toe over it, or brushing it under the carpet. Have you ever thought of the possible positive future outcome that can emanate from a presently obliterating miserable moment? Probably not often. Because it is common practice to want to be done with the bad moments that occur in your life span, instead of deliberately choosing to be immersed in a sea of woe that you cannot avoid anyway. If you view it as a way to find out your limitations, test your breaking points, to see your reactions and how you can better yourself, then perhaps it is worth choosing to explore. Deal with it, head on head. Face the fear in all its dark glory, and you can only be victorious as you will have learned something about yourself.
And time of course will not let you revel in misery for long. As soon as you start to enjoy a different more resilient side of you, the status quo will change and you are called to adapt to new circumstances again, paving the way of a healing process of vanquishing demons and spiritual deliverance as a cathartic rain begins to pour.

We will always have enough time if we know how to use it to our advantage. The universe will conspire to aid people who do not fear themselves, and who are willing to find out how deep the rabbit hole goes and if in fact they want to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, or if it will just suffice for them to ride it and experience the magic of its colours.

I Cried Wolf

Last night it was cold. It was freezing. The snow kept falling and falling, and as it continued to fall for hours, it weaved a thick white blanket that covered the landscape. In the wooden cottage, it was warm; warm and safe and lonely. The cries of the pack outside haunted my mind, painted disturbing pictures, images of pain and longing and yearning. My body begged me to stay indoors, by the fire, to fetch more wood, to cuddle up in front of the flames and relish in the feeling of safety. Yet my mind traveled fast, beyond the cottage, over the white blanket and into the woods, following the howls. But I stayed; I stayed until I could no longer hear the calling, the beckoning. And then I slept.

I woke. The rug I lay on was damp and the fire had gone out. I had no idea what time of night it was. I looked outside, and it was day. The sun shone against clouds that filled the sky. It was glorious and cleansing. The snow fall had stopped and already the blanket had been unraveled and the greenery emerged from under it in abundance.

I ran out to fence off my demons, to show myself to the day, to be liberated of my hauntings. Yet I could still hear the cry. It was a different one this time. One that did not torment me, one that made my mind and body want to run and greet it.

And it's source came to me, endearing and full of hope and with yellow eyes that promised me the world. I kneeled. Contact. Thick grey coat, and a soft undercoat gave him bulk, although he was only a pup, playful and energetic. He licked my ear as I hugged his head in my chest. I laughed. It was a moment worth last nights' torment.

And then a haunting howl again, summoning him away from me. I saw the sadness and fear in his golden eyes. They widened, he blinked and then looked down. He let me hold him for one more moment, then retreated. He ran, leaving me there in devastation. He ran paced and with rhythm, as if to the beating of a drum. A drum roll.

I followed, I pursued him in the woods, trying to track his fresh prints in the left-over snow. They say that the chase is often better than the catch, and I wish I could have kept chasing, searching, wondering instead of having found my 'catch'. Blood, violently scarlet against the purity of the white ground it covered. He lay there still twitching, sobbing a low pitch growl, in pain, in agony, but not in doubt. He knew why, although I didn't.

Tears streaming down my face, heaving and sobbing, I could taste their savor in my mouth. I caressed his soon to be lifeless body and repeated a chanted whisper "I won't forget you, I won't forget you.." He looked at me one last time, and through his auric eyes I could see his soul, bared..."I know" he replied, "I know".

I did not cry Wolf, instead I cried for my Wolf.