Spiritual/Political/Philosophical Blog on the Nature of Truth and Falsehood and Heaven
|
|
| Sunny Days in Heaven Spiritual/Political/Philosophical Blog on the Nature of Truth and Falsehood and Heaven |
|
|
Friday, May 03, 2002 An Explanation of Something Important about the Future A man can live without his memories. What need I to know of sins or of blessings? I know I am; I know you are. I know my wife and child, the names of animals and plants. I can add a sum, measure space, write a line, and make the paper. But I no longer know my former name or life. Heaven is amnesia. All are content. I know you are and that I am. I know the pleasure of music, work, sleep, and food. I know who my children are; who this woman, in all her beauty and modesty, is. All that's good, true, and beautiful - I retain. I am pure. All is pure. Love is a kind of gaze; life no longer alien, anxious, suspect; no one misunderstood. Heaven is a visit to a foreign land where you've forgotten what country was yours; yet, everyone you meet speaks your language, and is as genuine as you are now. When I was three years old and it was New Year's day, I awoke, ate breakfast, talked to my brother, saw my parents, and played the day away. Did I see something cruel, hear something harsh or do something cruel and speak harshly? I don't know. I can't recall a single thing about that day. Am I diminished? Less for it? Not in the least. I am free of pain or pleasure in that day; and yet it was a day of life and not a never was. A day I laughed or cried, or sat alone, was carried and caressed, or absent of fear. Most of my life, events and incidents, are all forgotten. I've no tears for that; no nostalgia for unremembered times. I live now. Memory belongs to grace. What I recall is left to God. Let all my sins decay into nothingness, and all my scars dissolve. Let all unhappiness drift off and sink in lost sands of deep seas. I still remember how to kiss, to smile, to praise, and taste all goodness in each moment. Life is not what we were or will be. Life is what we are. Without Love, we are nothing and exist no more than lost memories. posted by Mark Butterworth | 12:56 AM | |
|
|
|
|
|||||||||
|
 |
||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||
