Ok, this morning I woke up with a thought enough complicatino and potentially unsolvable in the head: How the heck does this life? (Not bad for a Monday, no?)
right: we are born and die, and this seems like common ground, and I'm fine! But there seems to be too simplistic as a system? I mean, we are surrounded by a universe that moves up and perfect rules, mathematically impeccable, even on proportions that are called divine. In short, this story of life there is something I do not square!
On the one hand everything seems calculated to the millimeter, we strapped on anything in the cosmic balance, almost magically, we are small dots in a gear that goes with Swiss punctuality for millions of years, and secondly it seems to me that the system of allocation of lives there is something imperfect, or completely random.
Try to leave the house, and tell me how many lives you see in 5 minutes: the neighbor, the ant, the beggar, the manager in the car, the disabled, the dog ... and it goes on and on.
And have you ever wondered: "Why am I me and not the dog? And I Ant and have something to share, and why that child is walking with a wheelchair and I have both legs operated ?"... I sometimes ask myself, and everything leads me to answer that there must be some form of justice in this.
Let's say I passed the story of Paradise, a fabulous place full of cherubs and jokes and jokes ... I stink therefore also the subject of Hell, which I think is a gimmick to avoid someone that men should act total anarchy. So, aside aluzze, pitchforks and the smell of sulfur, I began to wonder over the years: "So where the hell I'm going to end?" "You might have made a universe to be so perfect for farmici, boh, how much? 82.5 years, according to life expectancy mean? It seems to me wasted!"
And above all, that there is justice and perfection that I have a house, a job, belongs to the genus believed to exceed the living, while in my jar terrace runs a creature called ant 6 months if the camper that says well, unless I decide to kill him first with a generous dose of Baygon on cucuzzone? What has he done wrong to be born the ant ant? It 's just a matter of luck? I do not think ... I do not want to believe it, everything else here is a mess.
So, I think the theory of reincarnation can be fully included among my beliefs towards life: a rising path towards perfection in which life after life, take the form of different beings (plants, animals, other types of men) ... yes, I like that, it has its meaning, and so I understand what I mean and the because of different living beings, and I also explain why so often I seem to have a higher knowledge than I should have (it happens to you, right? feel to know that things do not really feel that he should know ... OF MORE 'than you are).
Well, I thought this is reassuring and makes me seem less strange being born in Rome, from a normal family to be happy, while the TV, effective, and often stupid window on the world, show me Ethiopian children with swollen tummy ... or just see a cat hit the road. This thought makes me say: "Ok, now this is so, but sooner or later will also touch me, or maybe I have already touched and then this life I earned it as is, "... and I feel more part of the world, closer to everything.
thing is to understand whether this process is backward, or on the rise. Let me explain: we start from ' lowest and most wretched existence and take the last flight to the perfect life (a little 'the concept of Nirvana) or vice versa?
It would be interesting to take a peek at our universal script! will come from the ant hill, from cow dung hut in savannah, or I will send you in my next life (instinctively opt for the answer to, but I could be wrong ... basically am a life west, apparently seem to be the apex of the pyramid, but maybe we are the pinnacle de sac of our existential curriculum)?
Well, maybe this is a rumination a bit 'too complex to be dealt with on Monday morning.
... but the moral is: if you see an ant, not crush it with your spinster It could be your next great-grandmother!
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