Author Topic: Does Death Really Exist?  (Read 857 times)

TheOtherHalf

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Does Death Really Exist?
« on: November 28, 2015, 11:53:42 PM »
Not sure if anyone here has heard of the Mandela effect or not. That's what brought me back here - to see if anyone has noticed anything different about reality.

Some specific instances to which I am referring, is discovering that people I thought were dead, are not dead. There are many people who remember it like I do. I remember the deaths of Betty White, David Soul, Marla Gibbs, Gene Wilder, Jane Goodall, ,John Goodman, and very possibly, we may very soon be hearing about the death of Cher. I hope not. My heart just leaped into my throat when I saw that, but when I looked again, nothing - no  news at all. Anyway, these people are not dead. But in my "reality" they all died some time ago. Honestly, when I discovered this Mandela effect, I started to feel very sick. Life life isn't sick enough, eh?

But it got me to thinking about death again. On the chance that this Mandela thing is not a hoax, and on the chance that it really is a matter of slipping onto a different time line, then it proves that there's really no such thing as death.

You'd think that would be reassuring, but the idea of endlessly looping timelines is a bit sickening isn't it?

It makes me wonder when I'm going to hit the timeline where Glenn isn't dead. Or maybe even if I'm in that timeline already.

On a more positive and less stomach churning note, I'm really starting to warm to the idea that death really is nothing more than sloughing off the human jacket, and moving on to the next thing.

As for my own death - I have spent these last several years unapologetic-ally and very consciously aware that not only have I clung to this wonderful, beautiful life (even with all its meaness and agony), really hating the idea of having to ever give it up. Even this old body, I would not have traded for the most beautiful glowing thing. People say it's wrong to cling like that but I didn't care. How could I not love the sky, the earth, the trees, birds, animals and insects? Why would I ever want to leave this place?

I still love this world, but I'm growing very very weary of the culture. And this lovely feeling of letting go now beckons.

I feel sorry for the poor earth, animals, insects, and trees that have to put up with this culture long after I'm gone.

I hope to see them all again, in a culture free world.

This isn't an ode to suicide - I'm here till I'm not here. It's just a bit of a retrospective and a growing feeling that death really does not exist.