Experience Doesn't Make This Easier

Experience doesn't make this any easier and perhaps that's because we've lessened the meaning of our first death—everyone knows it's not final and unrelenting. If we don't like it, we don't have to continue, a personal resurrection of sorts. Like Christ, we choose to go to our deaths. We choose submission, an end of choice, an end of us, and the death of everything we love and cherish—all our ambitions, dreams, and plans. 

We die in imitation of Christ and in our dying, share his death. In sharing his death, we also share his resurrection—we don't stay underwater and, what's more, “Christ was raised from the dead and we know he cannot die again. Death has no power over him.” Through our death by water, we die to ourselves and allow Christ to kill what makes us “us” —the good alongside the bad. Through our resurrection, we take part in his resurrection and we know we cannot die again!

And so our experience doesn't make it easier. We didn't realize it would be necessary to use our experience to make our second death easier on ourselves and those around us. Those of us down here on earth know all about its and relentless nature. We have become “so attached to these bodies.” We're familiar and comfortable with them. This death—not our choice—kills what makes us “us” —our very self is under an indefensible attack, not from without but from within. Resurrection this time is a lot less certain and clearly must involve more than bursting up from the water soaking wet and gasping.


This is faith. Believing and living the belief that “Christ means everything to me in this life and when I die, I'll have even more.” Believing that, “I can't lose... alive, I'm Christ's messenger; dead, I'm his bounty.” Believing that what we want this time—a little longer here on earth—will take a backseat to what he wants this time as it has in the past. Because we have experience and experience makes it easier.

Monads

Somewhere around the turn of the 18th century, while everyone else was having panic attacks about the scientific revolution and Sir Isaac Newton was "discovering" gravity, a German philosopher by the name of Gottfried Leibniz was discovering another sort of creature entirely. What you don't know probably won't hurt you, but just because you aren't aware of it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. This is incredibly true when it comes to Leibniz's greatest discovery: monads.

What is a monad? you ask (that's understandable; their fame is somewhat less than widespread). A monad is a "unit of psychic force" (Palmer 187) which makes up the world. Not an atom, oh, no. Our buddy Gottfried is too smart to get trapped into foolish debates about the reality of matter. Instead, monads (which look rather like dust bunnies or pygmy puffs from Harry Potter) carry all of creation inside them. Some monads make up water. Others, trees. Still others, you and me.

Yes, you are made up of monads, and there is one monad who is the lead monad. He's in control. He makes decisions for you, in the interest of following a set path. Your destiny depends on how long your monads retain interest in you: any minute they could decide they no longer want to participate in your reality and, well, quit. This unfortunately leads to your death.

Not all philosophy is as ridiculous as this. Likewise, not all philosophy is as humorous.

Female. 19. Follower of Christ. College student. Ridiculously interested in learning. Everything. Reading. Everything. Writing. Artistic ventures. Music: vocal and instrumental. I journal, I essay, I expound my personal life's philosophy for the world.

As of now, my world consists primarily of my friends and family. This blog seeks to change that. It will, I hope, be somewhat anonymous, which will allow me to open up about my personal life without all those pesky personal attachments.

My goals:

To improve my writing and communication style.

To provide serious yet humorous prose (mostly prose, I think) for you, the reader.

Why monads? Our dear friend Gottfried proposed monads as simple creatures which contain within them the course of the world and all the possible choices each individual could make. I am small and insignificant: no one knows me, or cares about my writing. But maybe someday they will. Maybe someday I will take my potentials and turn them into actuals. After all, I'd hate for my monads to get bored and leave me, wouldn't you?

I am a monad, and I choose to participate in my own reality.