The Curse of Immortality

Recently, a young friend came to visit me, and our conversation shifted to the topic of "immortality." In a forum on M.E.T.A.L., an organization we both belong to, there was a vigorous debate on this topic, with examples of rich people spending vast sums of money to pursue the age-old dream of physical immortality.

My personal stance has always been that achieving physical immortality without wisdom is not a significant accomplishment and could quickly become a curse if one were not able to cast off all the chains that bind one to temporal attachments to friends and family, which all have temporal constraints that are quite incompatible with what soon or later would turn out to be the predicament of immortality.

Much to my surprise, my otherwise very bright friend declared that immortality depended on being remembered for better or for worse throughout eternity. I listened to his extraordinary interpretation of what he believed was the ancient Egyptian position on the matter.

Although I disagreed with him, I didn't argue with him, because it seems to me that all discursiveness depends on one's point of view. Does one consider such matters from the pedestrian personal earthbound level bound by a strong belief in the reality of that temporal aggregate one erroneously calls oneself? 

If so, one is bound to mistake transcendental points of view, which emanate from beings who have not completely surrendered to the material mirage and who are able to distinguish between the role they are playing and the actor within, who does not need to remain in character at all times. 

I have often compared that kind of predicament to the diver so used to his vehicle that he can no longer discern that there is a difference between the two. The driver, driven insane, having forgotten the fundamental difference in function between the vehicle and himself, insists on attempting to drive it straight into his bedchamber, wreaking havoc in the process. 

Another famous example is that of the Mad King, who forsakes the wonders of his realm, and the Splendor of his Palace, who has taken refuge in a filthy oubliette deep underground, wherein he guards a bunch of worthless rags, which he calls his precious possessions. 

Any attempt to coax him back to his royal station is repelled by his conviction that such entreaties are attempts to steal his pathetic, imaginary treasure. 

Thus is the plight of deluded mankind, whose material goals prevent it from recognizing its true transcendent Divine Quintessence, which I have termed the Absolute Elsewhereness of Being.

To learn more about the Absolute Elsewhereness of Being click here.