GENIUS FORUMS

I am interested in knowing how many people out there hate their fuckin lives. Through out the years of studing theologies I have never been so surrendered to the idea of death. What could possibly be more satifying than wanting to have death at your door? Please, give me a break, I don't need a lecture just who else is out there feeling the way I do?

I love my fuckin life, though it hasn't always been perfect.

Anti-christ wrote:I am interested in knowing how many people out there hate their fuckin lives.

I would say most people on this forum, including myself, have felt very accute mental suffering to the point where we have contemplated suicide. It's because of this that some have become interested in and devoted to giving up the desire for happiness, sex and family in an effort to erradicate the source of suffering, the ego. This interest or devotion might be combined with going on meds, or perhaps - just meds. All sorts of variation.

Quotes such as this one by Jesus seem reasonable:

"If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even his own life—such a person cannot be my disciple. Luke 14: 26

Anyone who mentally suffers greatly, does so because of relatively inordinate ammount of consciousness. For instance, a father who loses a child, is left with a heightened consciousness relative to the fathers whose children are all still alive. The happy fathers are less conscious, more appeased by attatchments.

The father who had his attachments stripped becomes painfully aware of the other side of the story.

It was partly because Darwin's child had died young, that he gave up his belief in Christianity.

Darwin also felt a bit terrible about his discoveries in biology as well - Darwin wrote to his botanist friend Joseph Dalton Hooker about his theory, saying "it was like confessing a murder"

Through out the years of studing theologies I have never been so surrendered to the idea of death.

Studying philosophy and truth has that effect.

The Zen Master Hakuin once said:

Don't you realize that every syllable contained in the Buddhist canon - all five thousand and forty-eight scrolls of scripture - is a rocky cliff jutting into deadly, poison-filled seas? Don't you know that each of the twenty-eight Buddhas and six Buddhist saints is a body of virulent poison? It rises up in monstrous waves that blacken the skies, swallow the radiance of the sun and moon, and extinguishes the light of the stars and planets.

It is there as clear and stark as could be. It is staring you right in the face. But none of you is awake to see it. You are like owls that venture out into the light of day, their eyes wide open, yet they couldn't even see a mountain were it towering in front of them. The mountain doesn't have a grudge against owls that makes it want to hide. The fault is with the owls alone.

You might cover your ears with your hands. You might put a blindfold over your eyes. Try anything you can think of to avoid these poisonous fumes. But you can't escape the clouds sailing in the sky, the streams tumbling down the hillsides. You can't evade the falling autumn leaves scattering spring flowers.

You might wish to enlist the aid of the fleetest winged demon you can find. If you plied him with the best of food and drink and crossed his paw with gold, you might get him to take you on his back for a couple of circumnavigations of the earth. But you would still not find so much as a thimbleful of ground where you could hide.

I am eagerly awaiting the appearance of some dimwit of a monk (or barring that, half such a monk) richly endowed with a natural stock of spiritual power and kindled within by a raging religious fire, who will fling himself unhesitatingly into the midst of this poison and instantly die the Great Death. Rising from that Death, he will arm himself with a calabash of gigantic size and roam the great earth seeking true and genuine monks. Wherever he encounters one, he will spit in his fists, flex his muscles, fill his calabash with deadly poison and fling a dipperful of it over him, drenching him head to foot, so that he too is forced to surrender his life. Ah! what a magnificent sight to behold!

anti-christ wrote: What could possibly be more satifying than wanting to have death at your door?

Suicide wouldn't be satisfying. It wouldnt be anything. But I know what you mean. It would just be the end of all burden.

If you find yourself suffering greatly, that means you've outgrown conditions that have once given satisfaction. It's like a baby feeling the pain of his teeth growing in. The baby cries. With soft gums we suckle merely from womans breast, the lesser. With hard teeth we detatch ourselves from woman, and find ourselves in a position to digest a wider range of nature.

Your pain is the death of old conditions that are murdered by the involuntary drive of creation. Which side are you on? The side that's being destroyed, or the one that's creative?

just who else is out there feeling the way I do?

Lot's of people - - some commit suicide, whereas some make an effort to change the quantity and the quality of what they consume each moment.

Every moment is consumption and production. You are constantly being consumed by what you consume, and produced by what you produce.

So it's either you are going to commit suicide or you are going to have faith in your reason and create for yourself a new alignment to life. Do you have any bad habits? Drugs? Are you vain? Eat junkfood? Submissive to irrational values of family? Smug, stupid friends? What are your sleeping habits like?

The Buddha once said, "Life is suffering."
My dad once told me, "Only weak people kill themselves."
The only one I agree with fully is my dad.

In my opinion, if you're thinking of suicide, then you need to either get a hobby or else just do it. Asking others what they think, if you're seriously contemplating it, is just a cry for help. Only you can help yourself, and crying won't help. Even if others show some sympathy that won't help you out. You'll soon come to find that you're feeling like shit again.

You have to find a purpose for yourself, and work hard at that purpose. The only thing of value in this world, emotionally, is the feeling of satisfaction that you did something right and you did your best at it. Find what's valuable in this world and protect it...that can be your purpose.

Depression and a disgust with life comes from not being at peace with who you've become. Maybe it's time for a change.

Anti-christ wrote:I am interested in knowing how many people out there hate their fuckin lives. Through out the years of studing theologies I have never been so surrendered to the idea of death. What could possibly be more satifying than wanting to have death at your door? Please, give me a break, I don't need a lecture just who else is out there feeling the way I do?

Most people hate their lives. More people do than will admit it, though, because it's a bummer to get into that stuff when there's a club to go to in an hour---and get drunk to kill the pain and fill the void. Drug and alcohol addiction is evidence enough of how people feel about their lives. Futilely seeking happiness and ending up back in the dumps.

I used to, as well. But I haven't for awhile---don't hate it, don't love it; it is what is it and I try to something constructive with it.

Maybe find another role model, aside fom Dubya there; might be a good start...