Purgatory:
I am not a believer in God, nor the Catholic religion I was brought up as. My family used to make me to go to mass, even when I begged to not make me go. I can’t sit through church and listen to (what I believe to be) the make believe stories. “Jesus” never rose from the dead. That is impossible. No one ate an apple and magically created the human race. It just didn’t happen. I need concrete evidence. Something to grasp onto that makes life make a little more sense than it does right now. If I completely remove the aspect of religion from the definition of purgatory, "a place between “Heaven” and “Hell”, where the soul is not bad enough to be sent to an eternity of damnation in “Hell”, but not good enough to go to “Heaven”, it completely makes sense. I have been here all along. Today, I found the true meaning of purgatory. For me, purgatory is standing in the middle of a vein of boulders created millions of years ago by huge glaciers. Looking at the waterfalls. Hearing the sound of the water rush through the outcrop of rocks. Dangling over the edge of a fallen tree to get the perfect picture. Sitting on the top of a ledge with someone you love. Looking over that edge and being glad you are alive. Being glad the person next to you is alive, and experiencing life with you. But, not worrying about life. Not worrying about anyone but yourself and the person next to you. Living in the moment. Its neither “heaven” nor “hell”. It’s right in between. It’s the calm in the storm. But its also the “storm before the calm”. The time where you decide where you want your life to go. Who you want in it. Why you want them there. Whether or not you want to experience life, and why you want to. The time you decide life over death, or death over life. To me, it is terrifying. It is this completely overwhelming feeling of terror, where you realize that your life, as well as your loved ones lives, will come to an end one day. I am still struggling with the thought of this. It is the scariest reality I have realized so far.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Author
Caroline Loftus "Our shoes are tattered and torn, but our feet are dry. As for our places in history, we will run naked through your streets before we sit decorated in your halls." Archives
January 2017
Categories
All
|