An ounce of mortality for a gilded life

Bringing back humaneness to mankind

Dying is not what you do at the end of your life.

Dying is what you are.

You are dying. Always were.

This is my biggest gripe with the lockdowns and the quarantines. Suddenly, we cannot be actively dying. Well, that’s a bit of a misnomer. It’s a fucking tragedy.

If there’s no active dying, then what the hell, there’s no active living.

As if this culture wasn’t already enough death-phobic! Death! Disease! Dying! Viruses! Stop dying! Stop living!

A close encounter with Death will make you get off that couch and live life untrammelledly. Only a sheltered being –removed from any sense of active dying– will ever enslave itself to the drudgery of modern-day life.

C’mon, life is only fun cause we can die from it. I want no utopia. I want no eternal life. I want no meaningless existence. I want to die trying to live, or live trying to die. Ying and Yang. Don’t make the mistake to remove one out of the cosmic equation. There’s wisdom in there.

Disney taught us that death was for losers. Only losers die, right?

But here in the real world, losers are the ones that never dies, that never tries, that never burn the heap of deadwood surrounding their neck. Nobody’s teaching that, other than the few that seem illuminated. It doesn't take much to be illuminated these days, maybe a touch of critical thinking and an ounce of awareness and you should see clear[er] than most.

Amidst the plurality of different outcomes possible, pick the road that leads on the sacred path of healing. The pendulum needs to sway back. Let it be so. True winners aren’t the ones not dying. True winners are the ones playing the Game of Life to the fullest extent of their abilities and create the most beautiful world with their own human mortality. That is the beauty of life. That is our history. That is what makes mankind, humane.

Love

Compassion

Wisdom

Power

The endgoal of awakenedness is love.
The Universe tries to heal itself.
It heals when you decide to heal.
You heal by forgiving, forgetting, and forging a new world.
You forgive, forget and forge reality by the strenght of your character.
You get strenght by the wisdom you developed over the years through the crucible of life itself.
You gain that power by diving into chaos itself and battling the demons in the underworld.
You win over yourself by diving into death.
The blight at the core of your existence is the existential fear of dying.
Compassion is born from the warmth of the fire that illuminates the boundaries of your consciousness as you burn the heap of deadwoods dragging you down.

Love

Compassion

Wisdom

Power

The endgoal of awareness is living in the now.
The living in the now is the prerequisite to leave footprints of love on the riverbanks of other’s flow of life:
The only true power in the Game of Life is the ability to make ripples on other’s energy field.
True wisdom is doing so at the right moment on their lifeline.
Compassion is patience.
Love is unrequited offerings of attention, awareness, awakedness brought down to one’s higher self.

Love

Compassion

Wisdom

Power

Some canvas painted by the highs and lows of the human experience are found on the alleys leading to your final destination.
Hues of madness!
All the doors lead to the same destination.
All the walls renders the same skies and the same tonality.
The plurality of your becoming –of your dying– is slowly winding down in numbers.
The singularity of your final glimpse towards the au-delà is getting closer.
The immunity of the soul will persist beyond your mortal body,
But will you be fine when the sun decides to rest for a final eternity;
Will you be fine when the moon wanes far away over the ocean of your deceptions!
Will the clouds of fury veiling your cosmic journey finally be lifted as the eschaton gets immentized for the last grande heure?
Will the echoes of your darnest thoughts bounce off the canyons –that you entrenched your being with– dissappear into oblivion itself?
And if normality was never the God to be served…
And if the fragility of life isn’t what it is thought of…
And if the frailities of your cosmic demeanor holds more of an illusion than reality….
Would you breath the more beautiful that your heart knows is possible?
As a final retaliation towards the dark angel…
As a final smile to the Galaxy.
As afinal flight above it all.
As a final mea culpa,
To the One,
Who was,
Who is.
You.

JP