Some of us plan to get sprinkled in a California redwood grove and the Delaware River (between PA and Jersey) instead :D
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Some of us plan to get sprinkled in a California redwood grove and the Delaware River (between PA and Jersey) instead :D
Why be negitive, why not say that we're alive is a common ground and be more upbeat, that's a truth as well.
I'm not so sure death is such a common ground.
Has anyone here personally experienced death? The perception of death is common. But none of us can ever experience it. And even if someone claimed they had in a previous life, it wouldn't help me, as it would just be a claim.
What death is is not common, for example different religions believe different things. That death is is common, even if you believe in reincarnation it seems that death still has to happen. The differences in opinion over death are probably more likely to divide than prove a common ground.
By death being common, I mean we will all die, for a short time we will all believe the same thing, "Hey were dead".
Life is to eratic to be common.
It is common in the same way death is, we all experiance it one way or another. Death is also eratic.
I would just like to point out that we haven't experienced death, and we are more likely to be aware of the experience of dying than death.
Everything that we know of had a start and will have an end.
But can you remember starting?:)
Knowledge that we will experiance death is there but it is a very tenuous (sp?) common ground and one I doubt many people could agree on.
The actual act of birth and death I have realized are common, its like we are the water cycle, we all start off the same, go crazy and are all over the place, and then end the same. Or maybe I am nuts.:D
You should be :)
Amuse, reading your post and the rest of this tread, I was reminded of the last few lines of Walt Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass:”
I depart as air—I shake my white locks at the runaway sun;
I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.
I bequeathe myself to the dirt, to grow from the grass I love;
If you want me again, look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am, or what I mean;
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged;
Missing me one place, search another;
I stop somewhere, waiting for you.
It sends chills down my spine to read this and know that he is speaking to us from beyond the grave.