I’m not dead yet.
I might be cocooned, but I am not dead. I’m not asleep either. I feel very aware. Waiting… Wondering what I should do. There is not much I CAN do… except introspect. And write. Starting this blog was a good idea, I think.
I will write my introspections.
So here are the observations of a person who finds himself almost completely alone. Another word for alone is unsocial. So I shall write about this. But my purpose is not to complain. I intend to express to the rest of the world where hope lies for a person like me. There IS no hope for me on earth. My hope is elsewhere.
This is not a place for readers who are looking for stories of earthly hope. I have no such stories to offer. I am concerned with truth. And the true destiny of physical man is death.
Let’s face it. Let’s face the truth and talk about it. Death is real. It’s in my face and it’s in my body. It WILL come. In fact, what I used to be is already dead. My old identity has expired.
I will never be a caterpillar again! The only hope for an earth-crawler is metamorphosis. Transformation through what some call death. But what a paradox! Because this “death” is our means of survival. So why is it called death? Simply because in the eyes of the unbeliever, this kind of transmutation requires a total detachment from physical reality. And to the materialist, physicality is all there is.