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Death is equal to love (Quite equal)

   Death is a hunter for some. For others, it's just another humiliation in this life, preventing them from being something worthwhile, shortening lifes time even further. But death is the moment when love manifests itself most. Love in the most clichéd form of purity, but love in the general sense, because as I said, I don't understand much about love (and for me, it's not a very important thing... but that's a topic for another day, hehe), a love that involves friendships, brotherhood, the simple yet grandiose solo presence, and even romantic and familial love. In the moment of loss , you realize how much you loved the presence of that departed being. In the moment of loss, you realize how much you loved the presence of that departed being. How artistic they were with their way of speaking, bringing harmony to your family or just to you, moving, etc. And then, you begin to carry that being's life with you, immortalizing their existence. Life and death are th...
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God's Unfinished Work

  I don't have any religion, but I still enjoy listening to the stories and even reflecting on them sometimes. In fact, one of the things I always think about when it comes to God is this idea of making everyone special, with unseen or unpredictable destinies. If you think about this sometimes or often call on God, I'd love to discuss it with you.If for God we are unique and each of us has a different destiny, what does God gain from this? What does this "mission" add to the existence of this "being"? Comment below on the blog! The " soul ," the essence of a being, is a copy of another being; it's not perfect. A sculpture of blood is meant to be a unique creation, definitely divine, because when it comes to God, it makes sense to me that we are pieces of him, each personality or form of him, making "him" also imperfect and his existence. A paradox that can still expand to something beyond it. The unknown is not impossible to know, ...
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The masterpiece of Void (Free will doesn't exist)

      Robert Sapolsky (neuroscientist, writer, and professor of biological sciences, neurology, and neurosurgery at Stanford University in the USA) -"We are the sum of what we cannot control." You are the ghost resulting from the choices and nature of your ancestors. There is no free will , as Sapolsky himself says. No one is "purely" real, and for me, free will is never related to being "alive"; it's more about "rebellious" freedom and nature itself, because that's the basis of your art. Of the joys you acquire and create in life, but there, it's still not entirely your "individuality." It's not entirely nature that defines you (only by itself, in this case. Many other scientists who criticize Sapolsky's ideas say that free will is something far beyond metaphysics , etc. And not just the biological part) because still, there is the part where you create " consciousness " and self-knowledge from what you...
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The ephemeral beauty of death

     Life and death are the same, in some way. The same in that they are ephemeral and not "sides" or eccentrically "real" things. Neither of them needs to think about having a body (whether a body "described" as ugly or beautiful) or any kind of choice that involves "one side" all the time. They don't need to be anything, and this applies to your life, which is always questioning you about who you are, whether you're worthy, whether you're a monster or something perfect or great, and that's so annoying that it even loses the point of complaining about it sometimes; it just becomes horrible. The world is somewhere between horrible things and "extremely" beautiful things, and that's it. Life becomes stupid. It doesn't escape your suffering or the suffering of the world in general. There are appropriate times to deal with issues beyond your control. Facing reality without defenses is like shouting at a wall, witho...
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The imperfect mathematics of human anatomy

  Reality is neither certain nor mathematically correct. Human reality has been shaped by the expectation of perfection and failure , of insignificance . But even those with the greatest status and the greatest physical and athletic achievements cannot achieve self-satisfaction . Life's sphinx makes them question whether they are truly beautiful and worthy enough to exist in this vast world. Yet, they have yet to find meaning in their lives. Life sometimes will lose sense, this is normal, but perfection is an ungrateful muse that turns you into a maniac with your own mistakes and failures, a being who will never find the ecstasy of perfection, and therefore, the meaning of perfection . Humans are a bizarre beauty , as is the mystery of life . But not designed to perfection, especially for creatures that already fail with perfection in the beginning, thinking that perfection is the only sense to our existence.
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