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Showing posts with label Hell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hell. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Sorrow is a concrete despair, despair is a universal sorrow


Despair is a relationship with loss.

Sorrow can be the despair over a particular loss, namely death, but despair can also be a sorrow over all kinds of loss.

Sorrow is a concrete despair, despair is a universal sorrow.

The primary definition of despair is, that it is the lived meaninglessness.

In the despair truth and values have broken-down.

Despair is the experience of, that meaning in your existence has broken in pieces.

There happens a breakdown in the structure of meaning, which you live in.

In the same way the despair shows an identity, which more or less is lying in ruins.

Despair is the emotion of breakdown. Despair, or meaninglessness, is existential chaos.

Hope is born from despair. They are two sides of the same coin.

Where there not is hope, there is hell, and because we are afraid of hell, we seek the meaning, which is in the hope. Then the illusion begins.

The word has in that way led to an illusion, and not at all to God.

God is the illusion, which we worship, and the non-believer creates the illusion about another God, which he worships – science, the state, utopia, or a book, which he thinks contains the whole of the truth.

So, what we as Idlers ask ourselves, is whether we can be free from the word with its illusions? Would that lead to despair?

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Memory isn´t able to maintain the light-wealth of eternity


When you see the thought-process, the process it is to become something, the will to power, when you really are it present, without feeling tempted, without making resistance, without justifying or condemning it, then you discover that the presence is able to receive the new, and that the new never is a sense impression; therefore, it can never be recognized or re-experienced.

When Dante - after his laborious journey through Hell and the Purgatory finally has reached Paradise, and is looking into the light-wealth of eternity - then his sight is rising so high that language can´t contain it, nor is the memory able to maintain the observed.

Dante compares it with the one who has a sight in his dreams and later doesn´t remember anything: only an imprint of the feeling in the dream is left, a dripping of the sight´s sweetness in the heart.