"The earth laughs in flowers."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson.
You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.
yesss i found it again! one of my all time favourite reads.
Philosophy went to the max right here
OI SCROLL BACK UP AND READ ALL OF IT!
I was really intrigued by this
the heck is this ohmy
La La La
OH MY GOD
Can we have a Clifford live action movie? Not a kids movie either.
Like, Emily Elizabeth’s parents are working for a government agency developing a super soldier serum. None of their testing is working and they start testing the serum on larger mammals in hopes of seeing better results. They inject a variety of animals, including a dog. Nothing. They are desperate and on the verge of having their project shut down when they notice one of the test dogs is pregnant. It gives birth and they bring one of the puppies home for their daughter.
To their shock, the puppy they brought home starts to grow at an incredible rate, its fur mutating into a brilliant red as it does so. They are ecstatic because their research has finally seen a result, albeit one they weren’t expecting. There is only one problem.
Clifford has become attached to Emily and refuses to leave her side. Emily, too, has fallen in love with her new pet. They decide to let their project be canceled rather than try to separate the two. Unfortunately, the government discovers their secret and begins a campaign to retrieve Clifford at any costs. During the initial conflict, Emily Elizabeth’s parents are killed trying to help her and Clifford escape. Emily and her dog flee into the wild. This sets the opening of the movie.
Over the course of the movie, Emily and Clifford are on the run and we see Emily grow into a young woman, everything about her honed into a survivalist expert. She and Clifford roam the backwoods, constantly in fear of being captured. On one of her rare trips into town one day, Emily witnesses a bank robbery in progress involving multiple hostages. She calls Clifford and the two of them save the lives of the hostages but wreck the bank in the process. The local news capture footage of Clifford and it isn’t long before the military arrives in town.
Emily wants to just run away again, but she sees that the military is destroying the town, driving people out of their homes and destroying property in their search. She decides that enough is enough and rides Clifford back into town and fights the military. Amidst the fighting a huge truck arrives. A general (who was her parent’s superior officer) gets out and smirks. He tells Emily Elizabeth that Clifford’s mother wasn’t the only animal that gave birth to a litter of babies after receiving an injection. The back of the truck unfolds to reveal a massive tabby cat. The cat strains against its bindings and tears free, immediately leaping onto a nearby group of soldiers and devouring them. Emily is horrified and orders Clifford to attack.
What follows is the dramatic battle between Clifford and the mutant cat. Clifford has strength, but the cat is too fast and agile. It looks like Clifford is down for the count, when the townsfolk, recognizing that Clifford is on their side, come to his aid. They distract the cat long enough for him to finish the beast off for good.
The military retreats, the general swearing vengeance on the two of them, and Emily and Clifford ride off into the night once more. But the legend of the big red dog has already started. And Emily Elizabeth knows that the day will come when she and Clifford will need to ride into battle against the forces of evil once more.
The credits roll.
Post credits, the screen fades to black for a moment. The sound of waves crashing on shore fills the air. The screen flashes brilliant white. The light of the lighthouse moves on, revealing a rocky shore on a rainy day. The camera pans down to find Clifford and Emily gazing out to sea. A massive object hangs in the air off the coast, obscured in the clouds. A smaller object rapidly approaches them. It resolves itself into an advanced helicopter that silently lands just down the shore from them. Clifford lets out a low growl but Emily quiets him with a hand on his leg. A lone figure emerges from the aircraft, huddling his arms around himself to fight off the cold.
He approaches the two. His hair is short and somewhat curly. He wears glasses and a grey flannel shirt and seems unlikely to pose a threat to the two.
“Emily Elizabeth,” he says over the sound of the crashing surf, “I worked with your parents. It’s taken us a while to find you, after the Birdwell Island incident.”
“And who exactly is ‘us’,” she responds, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Ignoring her question, the man continues. “Me and Clifford have a lot in common, actually.” He smiles a little awkwardly, then presses on. “I was hoping you might be interested in meeting my boss. He’s fairly excited to talk with you.”
“You still haven’t answered my question. Who are you and who do you work for?”
The man smiles. “My name is Banner. And I’m hear to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative.”
how long did you even spend writing this for that fucking twist ending because my friend you are one devoted fan
do you ever think about how little Michelangelo cared
All right, everyone, grab a chair and sit back because I’m going to share with you what I learned about Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel in my Art History Class.
The man NEVER wanted to paint the damn thing. But the pope at the time “forced him to” According to my teacher. Michelangelo hated this man, I MEAN REALLY HATED HIM. So did a majority of people. The pope’s nickname translated literally means “Terrible pope”.
And the working conditions were awful. He had to work on his back with all that paint, which is filled with some toxic shit that gave Michelangelo a limp for the rest of his life.
(Also, our teacher made us get on our backs and try drawing with both hands JUST to prove how bad and uncomfortable it is.)
At the time, the ceiling was so high, you could barely see it. You need binoculars to get a good look at what’s up there, by the time people could see the paintings, there was a lot of weird symbolism that Michelangelo hid up there.
This one? The creation of the sun and moon? God is mooning you. And the pope and all others after him prayed under that without knowing.
This one? At the time, dissecting was sacrilegious and everyone found out how behind God was what looked like half a brain. blah blah, science, science, that pissed everyone off.
And also, ALLLLLLL the men and women in the Sistine Chapel are all on fucking steroids. My teacher described the women’s bodies as "Men bodies with boobs slapped on."
And then there is this:
Now this is the back wall. Michelangelo actually wanted to paint this one after he finished the ceiling. (and there was a different pope too, I believe.) However, originally, EVERYONE in that painting was naked. And they didn’t like it. Adam and Eve naked? That’s cool. But Jesus? Now you crossed the line. So the pope at the time hired someone else to censor it and give the important figures clothes. He worked on it for 6 or 9 months before he died.
And then the symbolism in this one is great. Somewhere in the right, there are homosexuals in heaven. (No matter what, the Vatican will say “Those straight men are happy” I’ll get to that in a second), Michelangelo painted himself near Jesus, and the terrible pope is in hell with a snake biting his balls.
And if you were to point ANY of this out to the Vatican, they will deny all of it and claim Michelangelo was a catholic hero. In fact, when they discovered the symbolism around the 60s or 70s, the guy who told the Vatican was kicked out of the Vatican for life.
TL;DR: Michelangelo hated the pope and made the best “fuck you” of all time.
Dude Michelangelo was a BAMF who gave zero fucks
This is fantastic!! :D
team i can’t do math for shit but i can write a 3 page english paper in less than an hour