It’s kind of absurd to think that when God thinks about math, God starts back again at zero, then one

It’s kind of absurd to think that when God thinks about math, God starts back again at zero, then one. Perhaps God is obsessed with all of the numbers that fall between 3.8 and 5.3, on out into infinity. Or perhaps God likes imaginary numbers, or prime numbers so large we only get a glimpse of them before the human race destroys itself upon this fragile earth.

Maybe God doesn’t really care for straight lines. After all, there aren’t many straight lines in the architecture of the micro or macroscopic parts of the universe, and most everything in between, with the exception mostly being of the straight lines we humans have made. Or, could it be that all of this amorphous stuff like globs of bacteria and meteors extend out into infinite dimensions in straight lines?

My ways are not God’s ways, except when God is gracious enough to impart a little light and love into my mind and soul. Otherwise, I have the tendency to take pleasure in starting everything all over again. I prefer to open up endless new blank documents, and begin writing some brand new collection of thoughts (that are probably really not much different from previous brand new collections, but they feel new). I prefer to start the day again, the week again, the calendar year, the year marking my birth anniversary, etc. Start fresh, new and experience the world and what it means to be a human being over and over again as if for the first time.

However, I am frankly terrified of the idea of having my memory wiped by reincarnation. While reincarnation is infinitely more appealing to me than the prosepct of eternal damnation, it hardly seems like a worthwhile endeavor, even if I wind up remembering everything from all of my lifetimes when I pass into the next bardo. The idea that I would die some time in the next half century, and be reborn somewhere on this planet and struggle and muddle through another mediocre life all over again seems rather depressing. Except, of course, if my other option is eternal damnation.

I’ve reached a kind of truce or peace with who I am at 41, as a white, married, middle-class male living in the United States. I don’t think that my particular station, class, race, gender, etc. is the best overall way of truly experiencing what it means to be a human being, but I don’t hate myself for being privileged and descending from racists and slave owners, either. I think that there are people who experience being human in tremendously enriching and profound ways that we never really hear about–people who struggle with chronic illnesses and memories of childhood traumas. To say those things are preferable would be absurd, but to say that the people who suffer them haven’t been enriched in some meaningful way might be missing many notes in the overall score or composition of what it means to be a human being.

This is all to say that if I were reincarnated again, I’m not sure that I would beg to be born rich and pampered with little or no obstacles in my way. I’ve said before that this is the preferable way to go, but maybe your soul just ends up being so narrowly focused on yourself and lacking empathy for others that you regress in terms of spiritual growth.

This is mostly a bunch of idle speculation, I know, and I guess I started writing along these lines in hopes that something more profound would be teased out once I got underway.

What I’m trying to get at in a roundabout way is to say that I have finally reached a stage in life where I don’t really think that I will change much more throughout the rest of my life, and I have mostly made my peace with that. I am who I am, which is to say that the flaws won’t budge, and no great additional talents or skills are going to be added on top of whatever happens to already be there. I won’t suddenly unlock my true potential and become a math whiz, or discover the secrets to playing piano in such a way that I suddenly can perform at maestro levels. All of the bad thoughts and vices and proclivities toward sin or maybe just being “less than” seem to be bolted down into me. I pray to God for forgiveness and pray that I will receive gracious help in removing thought patterns that tend toward sinful thoughts and behaviors, but I don’t think I get better due to my own personal spiritual discipline so much as I’ve just gotten older and less perturbed by my flesh.

I can’t say as I will ever like or love myself the way some motivational speaker would like me to. I don’t think that being who I am is the ultimate and best way of being–there is always room for improvement, it’s just all in God’s hands, not mine. So, I don’t secretly wish to have more muscle, better looks, or be someone else altogether anymore. Who I am in the flesh makes sense given all of the variables of who I am spiritually and psychically.

I don’t get lonely most days. I wouldn’t mind having more friends, but I’ve struggled throughout my adult life to find friends who aren’t excessively needy and become co-dependent or energy drains. I don’t particularly feel the need to network with people or establish quid pro quo relationships so that any number of folks are out there who will do me favors some time in the future. Economic friendships seem to me to be pointless, since I’m not in business or politics.

I think that there is more work to be done in examining what happens in my mind during times of stress and sleep. Also, I think that nature, especially trees, offer a powerful tonic to the soul if I take the time to pause and listen to it. Trees carry an enormous amount of positive energy and their own kind of intelligence or wisdom/consciousness that could potentially save mankind if we all stopped trying to live our lives apart from them.

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