I don’t believe in miracles

There is something profoundly cynical, my friend, in the notion of paradise after death.

The lure is evasion. The promise is simply an excuse. So, you don’t have to accept responsibility for the world as it is, and by extension, you don’t need to do anything about it. God will provide?

Bullshit.

To strive for change, for true goodness in this cruel, fucked-up world, you must acknowledge and accept, within your own soul, that this fleeting, mortal reality has purpose in itself, that its greatest value is not for us, but for our children and their children etc, etc, ad infinitum.

To view life as nothing but a quick passage along a foul, tortured path (made foul and tortured by your own indifference) is to excuse all manner of misery and depravity, and to exact cruel punishment upon the innocent lives to come.

I abhor this notion of a paradise beyond the veil of death.

If your soul truly survives the passage, then it only makes sense that what awaits you is a reflection of what you leave behind.

See, in the squandering of your mortal existence, you surrender the opportunity to learn the ways of goodness, the practice of sympathy, empathy, compassion and healing – all passed by in your headlong, tongue-speaking rush to arrive at a place of glory and beauty – a place you did not earn, and most certainly do not deserve.

I say do your best to make a paradise right here, on Earth. You have the power in your own hands, in your own soul, to make the world a better place. Begging a higher power to intervene on your behalf will not improve your lot, or indeed the human race as a whole.

Do it yourself. Or stop judging those who are trying to.

Lest we judge you in return …

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