Such a sleepy weekend, much needed by both of us.
Once, I thought a lot about what heaven would be, given that the traditional version would be static and dull and a kind of hell. It would satisfy my curiosity about all of life's mysteries, allow me to do all the stuff I never had the time or money or aptitude to do in life. But as I got older, well, I realized life was the opportunity for life. And once I knew everything, boredom would set in for the remainder of eternity. So I added in reincarnation, since that would offer more understanding and experience. And came to the understanding even that would not be all that simple, what is the point if there is no continued memory. Only long after did I come to the appreciation of the concept of nirvana, loss of self completely, my life poured out cell by molecule by photon back onto the world, into the universe.
Strange how I never thought of hell, save as 'what heaven would be as taught in christianity.' Hell as idleness and excess, the attainment of desire to completion. Perfection in all. No death, no rot, no losses, because out of those comes the fresh new, the space for change and trying it all again. Heaven and hell are imbalances, all good, all bad, all dark or light. Like those decorative dolls I was occasionally given as a child, to be put up, for looking at, not playing with. Prison? But for those whose lives spiral out of control, maybe not so much as the terror of gang life. Extreme poverty? Certainly, but I've heard people from such backgrounds speak of the great love of their family during hard times. Torture? No question - this is the source surely - the Inquisition's torments, of hell. But worse than bone cancer, global skin disease, psychosis?
A good vet center therapist told me not to compare pain.
Gods give me the mess and the means to keep it in some order then mess it up again. All a matter of which way I hold my life, how I chose to interpret each lesson.
Picked up an Andy Goldsworthy book at the library, and am drawn in and enchanted all over. The natural put into a definite order, then allowed to disintegrate again. Forms and lines of wonderment and meaning, then collapse and decay and another day to form again, in a different way.
Moby's doing better today. He's had a hard week, what with the head bonk, tail squash, then the aural assault of the fire alarm yesterday, during which he hid in the dryer. When I got up this morning, he slept curled on his favorite pillow on the couch, stretching out as I stroked him.
Hell is (500) Days of Summer. Hated it more and more as we walked home. Dumb, romantic (in a bad way), deceitful, mean, overwrought, misapplied, crap, crap, crap.