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madmilez · 1 year

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Prayers of the non-believer

Part 1

In My Darkest Hour December 22nd

As I reflect on how s***** my life is, my mind keeps going over this whole belief system I have in my head. It makes me understand why so many people in the world play make believe all of their lives. Maybe if we say it over and over and pretend we believe it long enough, it will become real.. or hey, let's just do this for now, at least until a better alternative comes along. Early signs will figure something out soon right? Maybe a way to download our Consciousness into a computer? Like that Johnny Depp movie no one saw.

What if I'm wrong? Like it f****** matters. If I am right, then.. nothing. Literally. If I'm wrong, well, I guess I have an eternity of being in a state of constant and intense torture in the depths of an endless Lake of Fire to look forward to as punishment for the Existence I didn't ask for. That makes me think of a game show. All the contestants simply appear in the studio, taken from whatever they were doing at the time, and teleported instantly to a set in hollywood, unwitting contestants on a new game show with a twist.

A woman appears behind the first podium in a bathroom, brushing her teeth when she realizes she is no longer in her bathroom. Amen at the second, arms out in front of him as if he is still driving his car and slowly a look of horror overtakes his face. 3rd and final podium, a woman standing there as naked as the day she was born starts screaming at the terrifying situation she has found herself in.

Each podium comes with a microphone for the contestants to speak into and a pistol with one bullet in case they decide they don't want to play anymore. The twist is that they are all three destined and Bound for the Eternal pit of fire. As the host introduces the game to the audience, a cover on the floor is rolled back to reveal through a glass panel, a raging fire below and the muffled tries of the damned. The contestants gas as the host continues. He explains, briefly, the nature of this pit of fire. It is such that a person is subjected to a fire so perfectly hot that it consumes in an instant anything that comes in contact with it. However, a person Within this pit can surely feel pain but cannot be consumed permanently. Basically, the fire consumes them but they are instantly regenerated completely and then consumed again over and over and this cycle never ends. It goes on for all of eternity.

Three unwilling contestants stand, mouths the gate, and horror of the situation at hand. The host goes on. He explains that they can win the game and save themselves from this fate, all they have to do is discover the True Religion and the true God from among all the world's knowledge. As he says this, and with a swoop of his hand, a curtain is pulled back to reveal a mountain of books so high that they could not see the top. The Third Woman saints, the first pulls out the gun and shoots himself in the head. He is instantly transported to the Lake of Fire where he is consumed and regenerated again and again for all of eternity. The first woman stares through the glass and can see the man and can hear him screaming, begging her to help him.

He shuts her eyes, tight, and Whispers to herself over and over I am God I am God she suddenly realizes that all the sounds of the game show are gone, there is only the sound like that of a vacuum. No sound at all, yet somehow you can hear the silence. She is afraid, but she opens her eyes. All at once for physical form vanishes, her Consciousness sleeps and drifts, pulsing now and again like the blinking light on a bouy floating in the ocean. He does not hover, instead she drifts. Slowly yet deliberately in a specific direction. She is not aware of this, nor is she aware of anything at all. In fact, it could be said that she is not she anymore. She is but she is not.

This entity that was once a woman on a game show, is now simply what she always was at its most refined. Without all the additives that made it into the finite, weak, organic being at once was only moments ago. This new entity is Flawless and no longer aware, it is powerful and Purpose Driven even though it does not have the mind to process this into thought. It just is an if it does anything apart from Simply existing, it does so mechanically of necessity within the bounds of the laws of nature by which everything (even a god) must abide. In this case, it drifts. Toward the source, the unity of the life force or energy we call soul.

This entity drifts for a long, long time or no time at all. It is not aware, therefore eternity is an instant and an instant is eternity. If no consciousness is present to record such things, then they do not actually exist. How could they? Is existence not simply an entity or being of some kind being acknowledged by a conscious mind, even if it is their own? If a tree falls down in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? I think the real answer to that can be answered without consideration to the sound of the tree may or may not make. There is no one around? Then there is no tree.

Suddenly shock, a rude awakening. Bright light all around, unrecognizable sounds, so loud, pounding in her head. It's a girl a voice says, but she does not know what it means. Panic, fear and pain when a joke or sting is registered within her brain. She screams. Suddenly she is wrapped in some sort of soft material. She feels a warmth and here's a soothing sound. She feels something pressed against her lips, she has no idea what it is but everything inside her tells her to eat. She does not even know what means, it is more of a feeling, and instinct. Her body simply reacting.. mechanically, out of necessity.

From endless nothingness... the purest definition of peace, to the nightmare of life. Suddenly, and without warning. Sounds closer to the definition of Hell than life if you ask me.

God, if you're real.. why? What kind of father gives his child a gift and then takes it away? This life is like if I were to give my son a toy and tell him how he must play with it, any other way than my way is wrong and he will be punished for it. Either way, however, I am going to take away this toy from him. He never asked for this toy. He never knew it even existed until I gave it to him. I am fully aware of the way he will use this toy naturally so, this is the way I have forbidden him to play with it. If he does as I say and uses the toy the way I have instructed him to, vaguely, then I am going to take it away and give him a new toy, which when described, sounds terrible other than being made of gold, it's one desirable characteristic. If he does not use the toy the way I tell him to, I'm still going to take it away but this time I'm going to catch him on fire.

I am a finite being, my mind restricted by my morality unlimited access to knowledge. However even I know that this is not right.

I'm not sure if it is just me, or if dudes just lie and hide their emotions well, but I see myself as being more emotional than most men. Not that it's a bad thing. I don't usually subject others to my emotional episodes, but I do feel on a seemingly deeper level. This is likely contributable to some chemical imbalance in my head, I'm not entirely sure, but it makes life very difficult.

I deal with my mental conflict the only way I know how, I self-medicate. I use dangerous street drugs because I do not have access to any alternatives. I do not feel like I actually want to be a user... I just cannot, when given the choice, exist within the misery that is sobriety. I have tried. People say the longer you are sober the easier it gets. This may be true for some, but not for me. Each and every moment I am sober, no matter how long I am sober, I am inside my head. Especially if I am alone or in a quiet place.

I cannot turn it off, it's like a voice in my head, my own, yet acting outside of my will. This voice narrates my life but not the present. It only reiterates things from my past or current, ongoing situations, struggles or worries I may have. It's like me tormenting me. Anyways, that's the best way I can describe it.

I cannot help but constantly think about the big picture. What is next or more importantly why are we here. Have I solved the mystery with my theories? And even if I'm on the right track, there are still so many things I do not understand and cannot even fathom. My biggest issue being why are things the way they are? Why even have a life, i mean, it is hard to not think that nothingness will be better than this.

I understand that for some, a mortal life is preferable over no life at all. Some people have the mindset of gratitude for the experience even if it doesn't last forever. I admit, I suffer from depression that I cannot seem to control or overcome. I want to blame a chemical imbalance inside of my head, but my mind also says that I'm depressed because of the horrifying reality I am in.

My life is riddled with terrible events and painful memories. Here and there, few and far between are brief semblances of happiness, Tainted by the finality of them all. I often speak of balance, but that voice often reminds me that what I observe is a tipped scale. By a lot.

I have sought answers my whole life. When I was young I remember asking myself one question. With the time that I have what is the most important thing I can do? After considering this, I determined to do two things with my life. One, to find true love and embrace it. To to figure out what comes next, what is the purpose of this life.? What could be more important than that? So I tried to love and found that not everyone I meet has the capacity for True love. The only love that is even love at all is unconditional love. Everything apart from this is not love at all. Perhaps there should be a word for it, if there is I am not aware of it.

As for the discovery of purpose and of what comes next.. I searched. I searched for it like a lost treasure, which if you are not aware, is in instruction given to us from the big book itself. Yes, I quote the Bible often. From the perspective of mortality, the Bible is full of sound moral lessons and advice. Most good lies are adorned in truth.

In the end, or the now I guess I should say, I am left with feigned love. Giving freely with no return service and a mindful of answers that I still questioned and still, a list of the same left unanswered and without even a theory.

Why, still being the sum of it all.

#God #faithless #hopeless #depression #religion #nonreligion

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philtstone · 5 months

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Aragorn/Arwen, 63

#63 -- tujhe dekha toh from dilwale dulhania le jeyenge ok so the soulmatism of it all had me going completely nuts (simrans waking dreams.....i need to lie down) & before i knew it i'd re-read their appendix had 3 literary analysis epiphanies and was neck deep in the wiki page on love death and meaning and the paradox of religion and nonreligion in tolkein i say all that like i didnt just write movie verse kidfic lol. ellie is a shortened version of "nethel" which means sister in sindarin. in a different time in my life i would have named every single one of canon girldad aragorns "many daughters" & also included 5 of them but alas, at this time i am Busy. so we'll pretend that the other 3 havent come along yet. arwen has magic powers she will be fine. enjoy!

“My lady Luthien!”

The words come into Arwen's dream in the common tongue, whispered and full of a child’s awe. He is speaking as if to himself — the text has surprised him, or perhaps absorbed him so that he does not realize his mouth is moving, disrupting the Sindarin read privately in his thoughts with an impulsive, delighted exclamation.

To Arwen it is just as mesmerizing. She cannot know why her dream has brought her here, to this garden of her father’s House she has sought refuge in so many a time. She knows him very little, this child, not ten in the years of Men and so very human about it, with lanky limbs folded up against himself to cradle the book and a mop of dark hair that falls down over his eyes and the very beginning of spots on his chin (of endless intrigue to Arwen, who has only ever seen skin unblemished).

She has not met him, but knows of him from her brothers’ letters: her father’s ward, sweet and grave and beloved amongst the Rivendell kindred as any novelty in the shape of a child might be. But Estel earns it, too. He is earning his presence in her dream in the same way, sat in the exact spot she always chooses, under bows of trees she has long considered friends. He earns it, though Arwen doesn’t quite know why he’s here.

Don’t you? ask her thoughts of her self, and she does not answer.

Years pass, and she is home again.

“My lady Luthien,” he says, as she comes toward him, and within his voice is a gentle embarrassment that still manages to tease.

Arwen, firm in her earlier, gentle rejection (he is far too young), cannot help but find this terribly charming anyway. It is just after dinner, and she has found him behind a pillar to the side of where they dine. He holds his cup in both hands. Until her appearance he was studying the carvings on one stone edifice to their side, and seems in every way his mortal age save one: there is a new and convoluted weight in his eyes that was not there in the early afternoon, when he called so clearly and sincerely to her. It seems to have entered like the broken branches of a sapling swept into a fast-moving stream after a storm.

“I should be greatly flattered, Estel, to be compared thus,” Arwen says, offering that weight a smile. Estel drops his eyes back to the pillar. He seems to start and stop a few times before actually opening his mouth, and when he does,

“I should like to still be called Estel, for a while yet,” and there is great vulnerability there, in his young man’s eyes. It sneaks into her breast and cups a hand over the breath she draws, and despite the glade, and his youth, and the Truth her father has now shared with him, she is compelled: Arwen’s own hand slides over his knuckles, and they are holding the cup together.

“I will,” she promises. “I do.”

On the edge of the last word do his eyes flick up to hers, canny in a way that sparks beneath her skin. He lives up to his name, she thinks then (not quite knowing why), and when she writes this to him after they have parted, in the letters they now share, he writes back: so do you.

Before Estel, her experience of Death was altogether different. She knew it first in abstraction and then in keen loss. Now she feels its imminance and urgency, in both grand and mundane ways.

For example, earlier this evening, Arwen thought she might die if she did not kiss him. It was a thought that crept over her swiftly, silent and keen as a fresh ice water brook spilling into open hands, very different from the thundering roar of the river spirits she had summoned to herself – until it was suddenly quite the same, roaring, and it must have shown in her eyes. In the late quiet of the night she came to her rooms and found him, there.

(She has long since known why.)

The employment of her tongue is not new, but pulls a murmur out of him regardless. “My lady Luthien,” he starts, speaking almost directly against her mouth, with a wry amusement that is not so unburdened as to be playful and not yet a warning, either, and then he is properly startled into, “Arwen —!” when her next kiss includes a bite. The rasp of beard against her chin is uncomfortable and delightful. She can feel the rumble of her small victory in his chest. Aragorn has always done so much with just the two syllables of her name.

When she has lost all breath she pulls away, and does not pant — sweet air made salty by urgency comes in and out of her lungs in discordant sighs — but her lips stay hot against his ear and she feels every press of his fingers against the slope of her waist, burning. She thinks of death again; she has fought it off. Twice in one week now, in very different ways.

Aragorn does pant, in his own way. He lets out a quiet gasp and drops his head against the side of hers, not trembling but finding some stronghold deep within himself that begets composure.

Slowly she begins to comb her fingers through the hair at his temple. In the dark alcove of her rooms (safe), they sway together.

“Tomorrow,” he murmurs, and she knows: tomorrow the council is held.

“I meant it, earlier,” says Arwen softly, into his hair. It has begun to grey, the strands too hidden yet to shimmer in the moonlight but there nonetheless. Every so often she will catch a glimpse of them and it will leave her wordless, and desperate to touch him. “Your fears are not the truth you think them to be.”

“Arwen.” She can hear the desperation that threatens to choke his own voice. Duty turns the peaceful twilight of her home into a foreboding shadow. There are two large warm hands on her face before she has noticed them move, and then she feels the wetness of her own cheeks: she had not realized she was crying.

“I did not know it would be so momentous to love,” she says, while he wipes at her tears with war-roughened, gentle fingers. So many things about Men are a paradox. So many things about this man.

“Meleth,” he says.

“I meant it.” She repeats herself. “I know who you are in my heart, Estel.”

“You do,” he allows her, and she is not certain he believes it to be enough. No matter, Arwen thinks: her own belief will sustain them. It must, long enough that he has hope for himself as well as for Men, and then they might cross through the door, to the other side of the Dark.

The Queen finds her husband in Faramir’s study, reading.

“My lady Luthien,” she is greeted, words threaded full of the subtle humour that has turned her head for over sixty years.

Arwen clasps her hands over the laden basket she packed without needing any kind of foresight and sighs thinly.

“I did expect, mel nin, that you had gone the whole day without food, but I had thought you would be found holding grave council, or visiting the head healer, or even – forgivably – in the stables. Instead, you are here, nose-deep in an ancient poem.”

“It did not come to you in a vision?” he asks, and raises his eyes just enough to catch hers from beneath his lashes. This does nothing to diminish the focus etched into his dark brow, nor the way he holds himself (always it calls to her – it does not matter the shape), nor the deep blue of his mantle sweeping against the floor; he has not paused to change since returning from the Southern Wall. Whatever peace he thinks his feigned innocence will win him, she cannot know.

“Your Steward told on you, my love.”

“Aaah,” his face falls, so dramatically it is amusing.

She holds up her basket. “I have lunch.”

“My beloved wife has developed the sensibilities of a Hobbit,” Aragorn says, in her people’s language.

“Hobbits are good and noble creatures,” she retorts. She always argues better with him in Sindarin anyhow, “and have traditions from which we might learn.” She arches a brow: “Estel.”

“I am eating,” protests Aragorn, somewhat weakly. “I mean – I will.”

“You might do so now. With me – there is no one else here.”

It is a potent suggestion, she does acknowledge. She watches him think about it, proud to note all the little tells which she has known since he was a barefaced and impulsive young man. The same canny look sparks under Arwen’s skin. Once, decades ago, she had met him in the wild woods beyond her father’s borders in a stolen moment between darkness and duty, and convinced him to bathe with her in the river. She remembers her joy at seeing his wet dark hair plastered all over his forehead. She remembers his own joy, and how it fought off the lonesome blanket of the gathering shadow.

“Your thoughts are of something I know,” Aragorn says now, suspicion arching his tone and narrowing his bright eyes, no longer that of a young man but still full of a life that thrills her. “Some joyful mischief that you’re going to coax me into again, no doubt.”

“There is sadly no river in the palace.”

“Aaah,” uttered in a very different tone from before. His eyebrows twitch out of their focused furrow and his face warms with the memory. He lowers his book a little. “Arwen …”

But he does not move from his spot behind the desk, so Arwen places her basket down and sweeps forward, intent. The silver in his hair streaks liberally now, and lines furrow down his cheeks when he laughs – often – but otherwise Aragorn remains mostly unchanged from the presence filling so little yet so much of the many years of Arwen’s memory. Affection rushes through her, swelling like the river, growing like the trees in Lorien. That glade, too, is a memory full of joy. He is much better suited to a beard, though. Arwen tells him this.

“So you have said many many times,” Aragorn says, chuckling. “I have no plans of removing it from my face, beloved.”

“I know,” Arwen hums. “I am only observing.”

Slowly she comes around the desk, on even steps, until they are very nearly touching and she can fold her hands over the top of his book. She takes a long moment to look at him, and though she in her chosen mortality no longer carries the same potency of power that Tinuviel’s blood held before, she conducts her habitual scan of his spirit, the truth of it ebbing through her fingers where they touch. Beyond her duties as Queen (of which there are many, and she both capable and willing) this is what Arwen knows most deeply in her heart how to do.

Finding Aragorn no more burdened than usual (though perhaps a little distracted) she leans in to whisper in his ear.

“Ah –” he clears his throat and touches two long brown fingers to her arm. Unexpectedly, then, Aragorn stage whispers, “We are not … as alone as it seems.”

“What exactly do you mean?” Arwen, paused very close to his mouth, is compelled to whisper back.

And then,

“It’s alright!” comes a familiar little voice from seemingly nowhere, and all at once Arwen looks down to see the outside shape of the King’s voluminous cloak wriggle. Her mouth parts in surprise. The whisperer continues importantly, “You may kiss Ada if you like, Naneth. We are not looking!”

“Ssssshhh!” materializes a second, equally familiar little voice.

Arwen tilts her head, mystified, as her husband sets his expression into something communicating exclusively the secrets and patient indulgences of fatherhood. Then he jerks his chin towards the door, eyebrows raised and everything, not a moment before there sounds the sharp cadence of what can only be a young boy’s footsteps (and Arwen would know this boy’s as she knows her own heart) and into the library bursts their only son.

At the sight of his parents, Eldarion comes to an abrupt halt, and tries very hard to compose himself.

“Ahem,” he says, straightening. She sees the way his body moves to mimic his father, and also the grass stains on his knees, and the disheveled mop of his curls that means he has definitely spent the last hour running around in the gardens. Arwen is unbothered by this. “Hello Ada, hello Naneth. Have you – have you seen my sisters?”

The front of Aragorn stays conspicuously still.

“Your sisters?” asks Arwen, clasping her hands demurely before her.

“I am afraid my attention has been elsewhere,” says Aragorn gravely, holding aloft his book.

“Indeed,” adds Arwen. “So much so that he has forgotten to eat.”

Minutely, the cloak quivers.

“Hmmmm,” says Eldarion, lost in focus. “I must find them to create an alliance with the brave rangers in the North,” he speaks, almost as though to himself – he is really giving this quite a bit of thought. He is so absorbed that she could be in Rivendell again, drawn by a dream into her beloved, occupied glade … “For we must defend the townspeople but I cannot do it alone.”

Arwen blinks. Her heart is filled with tenderness.

“They have assigned you the role of orc again?” Aragorn is guessing, sympathetic.

Eldarion droops only a little before springing back up with full confidence. “Yes! But I am determined that we will create an alliance. I am a good orc, you see.”

With hasty goodbyes, he rushes away, taking the excitable sound of his footsteps with him.

A moment of quiet passes. Aragorn’s cloak begins giggling, so he spreads open his arms and herds them out one by one.

“You must go quietly now, down the hall and into the gardens,” whispers their father.

“Naneth,” begins their youngest, halfway out the room, “Naneth, do you think if we formed a nalliance –”

“An alliance,” corrects Aragorn, still whispering.

“Shhh,” interrupts the other, “or Eldarion will find us!”

“But he must be getting lonely!”

“Oh, ellie …”

Their little voices trail out of the door.

“I believe an alliance would work,” Aragorn offers Faramir’s many inert books, speaking at a normal register once more. The study now empty, Arwen turns back to her husband. His eyes are twinkling. She does not say anything, but moves toward him, as she has done so many times before, and lays her head to rest against his shoulder. In moments the book is tucked away, and the warm hands she knows so well are cradling her arms.

After a moment he says, “You are well? Arwen?” a gentle question in her ear. Arwen nods. She can now say what she knows, and why they are here:

She sustained them, and there was hope to be found.

Aragorn’s fingers rub over the gauzy sleeve of her dress. “Did you have your heart set on lunch?” he asks quietly.

“I did,” Arwen says, and turns to hold his eye. “I do.”

#i rewrote the ending 3 times to procrastinate posting this bc i am so Nervous #ive literally written them before but never like Seriously you know?#Thee Blueprint from when i was 8 years old....#my writing #spotify wrapped prompt meme #aragorn #arwen undomiel #aragorn x arwen #the lord of the rings #the tale of aragorn and arwen #lotr #lotrweek

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wisdomfish · 2 years

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Separation of Church and State: What does the Bible say?

Scripture also supports the principle of separation of church and state (properly understood). It was these principles which informed early Baptist leaders such as John Leland and Isaac Backus and eventually lead to the passage of the First Amendment.

First, separation of church and state means that, at an institutional level, church and government are separate entities. Jesus spoke about this in Matthew 22:21 when he said, “Therefore render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's,” thus making a clear delineation between the “things that are Caesar’s” (the government’s) and the “things that are God’s.” Likewise, Jesus spoke of his Kingdom not being of this world (John 18:36) while simultaneously acknowledging through Paul that earthly government is established by God for our good. (Rom. 13:1-7). Jesus remains sovereign over both institutions (Matt. 28:18) until such time that he returns to rule and reign in the eschaton (Rev. 11:15). In the meantime, he gives both church and government differing tasks.

The key difference we see between the function of the church and the state comes through the use of the power of the sword. God has given government the power of the sword to punish the wrongdoer in civil matters (Rom. 13:4). The church does not have such authority (Matt. 26:51-56). On the other hand, the church can exercise church discipline in judging matters of doctrine and heresy but not the state (1 Cor. 5:1-13). Thus, there exists a healthy separation of church and state, both institutionally and functionally. This is crucial to the mission of the church, which is the preaching of the gospel. We cannot bring about conversion through the power of the sword vested in the state. Only through the power of God’s Spirit can someone be brought unto saving faith in Jesus Christ. “For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds.” (2 Cor. 10:3-4)

Practically, this works out much as it is articulated in the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. No religious institution is privileged above another, neither is religion privileged above nonreligion. Similarly, the government does not prohibit the free exercise of someone’s faith.

~ Neal Hardin

#separation of church and state #government #u.s. constitution #first amendment #caesar

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rcedge · 2 years

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It does kind of suck to be religious for me sometimes cus i will be doing nothing and people will say some insane shit and i will be like haha i totally respect your own beliefs of course but jsyk i am X and they will continue to make weird digs and comments around me until i say something like I try to be respectful of everyone's religions and their bits and bobs and then they re like well i respect their religion as much as they respect my views/nonreligion, i give back equal energy, all while having continued to be absolutely disrespectful the whole time. Actually it is only atheists who do this to me . Like whatever i guess everyone has their own hang ups i get it but i have done nothing to you . Lol.

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automatismoateo · 3 days

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Indiana school board ends prayers at meetings thanks to FFRF: The boards choice to set aside time at the beginning of each meeting specifically for uniformly Christian invocations displays clear favoritism towards Christianity over all other faiths and religion over nonreligion. via /r/atheism

Indiana school board ends prayers at meetings — thanks to FFRF: “The board’s choice to set aside time at the beginning of each meeting specifically for uniformly Christian invocations displays clear favoritism towards Christianity over all other faiths, and religion over nonreligion.” https://ift.tt/MoYSnh7 Submitted April 25, 2024 at 07:47PM by FreethoughtChris (From Reddit https://ift.tt/BqOexs1)

#reddit

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superkalafragilisticiexpectitall · 4 days

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Are we bad living souls for not allowing our culture/religions/nonreligions to be replaced by cults & d-evil idol worshippers?

I don`t think so, do you?

NOT Far Right - Just. Right. Every. Time.

Our roots run deep.. ✡️💕✝️

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jaimeyperham · 26 days

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When the role of religion in politics comes up in today's public discourse, the phrase "separation of church and state" is often part of the conversation. Proponents say this separation is law and must be maintained. Opponents say that this phrase never appears in the Constitution and goes too far in taking religion out of public life. Where does this phrase come from, and what does it mean? What is the separation of church and state?

The words "separation of church and state" do not appear in the U.S. Constitution, but the concept is enshrined in the very first freedom guaranteed by the First Amendment: "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion." Known as the establishment clause, the opening lines of the First Amendment prohibit the government from creating an official religion or favoring one religion (or nonreligion) over another.

The separation of church and state enables all Americans to practice their deeply held beliefs in private and in public.

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dadabhagwan · 6 months

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Religion [Dharma] means to do good for others and non-religion [Adharma] means to hurt others. This is referred to as religion-nonreligion [Dharma-Adharma]. Science is to transcend religion and non-religion.

#quotes #spiritual quotes #spirituality #dailyquotes #religion

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avegool · 1 year

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I've done it lads

I'm converting others to our nonreligion

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truth-from-a-targeted-individual · 1 year

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Be Hitler.

They will abuse you until you decide to murder the world regardless of the color or other identification of your target.

That is Hitler.

That is the world's definition of Hitler, and Hitler comprehended and understood that the world's decrees were always accurate and true.

Which is why he permitted them to use him as an ultimate tool of oppression! And that is the ultimate definition of the conclusion of World War II: Hitler knew he would end as a suicide case, so he did so before his own people took any further control over him.

So, be Hitler.

Reach the comprehension that you must either commit suicide or wholesale genocide.

It's your choice. They technologically developed you to become Hitler. They never intend to stop their quest to create the perfect ubermensch aka the perfect Hitler, because they are devoutly authoritarian, anti-Jesus, anti-God, anti-love, anti-tolerance, anti-peace, pro-antagonism, pro-war, pro-demon, pro-Satan, pro-nonreligion, pro-stupidity, pro-infantilism, pro-rape, pro-incest, pro-Hitler, pro-money-as-religion, pro-falseness, anti-truth, pro-animalism, anti-intelligence, pro-slavery, pro-mindlessness, pro-sickness, pro-coercion, pro-babyness, pro-groupthink, pro-demand-and-control, pro-instigation, anti-human, pro-cannibalism, pro-torture, pro-demolition, pro-socialism, pro-ignorance, pro-fake, pro-avoidance, pro-apologetics, anti-confession, anti-science, anti-fact, anti-love, anti-purity, anti-White, pro-dirt, pro-sabotage, pro-uncleanliness, pro-disease, pro-anxiety, pro-manipulation, anti-thought, anti-freedom, pro-demonstration-by-falsity, pro-murder-by-vicarious-existence, pro-vicarious-existence, anti-life, pro-death, anti-truth, pro-abuse, anti-restraint, pro-Black. Period. Listen to their "gay persons" long enough and notice how easily they manipulate the gay person's initial purity. They have purity.

Murder the world.

The world makes such their demand clear by their behavior.

They want you to fulfill that destiny, because they tie theirs to yours and refuse to permit you to live separate of theirs.

Destroy them, because they encourage such behavior.

Begin with their children, because they demand that you proceed with a plan bulletproof against them. And what better way than to execute their bloodline?

If they have no bloodline of their own, because they elected to have no children or were otherwise denied that biological capability, then execute them with the same priority you give to execution of the children.

Show the world its ultimate destiny! They know what they're begging for. So don't feel regret about giving them exactly what they want! Logic forbids them from having it both ways. They want death to their own children and themselves, by causing such to happen by your hand! So do it! The only thing you have to fear is fear itself. They toy with you on the highest level of interaction, by sabotaging your natural comprehension of the fact that death is nothing to fear, and that fear is an artificial construct created by them so they can dominate even while they create the thing they intend to destroy. They eat marijuana and other drugs so they can have maximal enjoyment of the ride down they create inexorably and consciously and conscientiously for themselves!

Execute their children. Then execute them. Watch the ultimate expression of their love: the hollowing-out of gay persons in every way available by technology and psychology, so the gay persons are the absolute slave of the others. Completely and irreversibly destroy the others using a less advanced but superiorly effective technology: execution and eugenics.

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