Someone dies? Oh, my. We read and hear about it ad nauseum. About their life, about their youth, about their last hours, about their loves, about their obsessions, about their secrets. We do not let them go. We keep them prisoner in our reality by constantly pouring energy in their now-past life. Yet, the system of this simulation we are born into is obsessed with death. Nobody asks us if we want to be part of it; we are made part of it because our parents want to do the right thing, and it appears the right thing to do is to obtain a birth certificate because without it, we do not exist, and non-existence would, of course, be inconceivable to most. Such is the depth of deception that we rather be seen as corpses than turn our back on a structure that crushes everything alive...read more>>>...
