A mantra is a sound, syllable, word, or group of words that is considered capable of "creating transformation".
Every Monday I will post a new thought, idea, or focus for the week. When you need a breather from life, when you need a little inspiration, or when you're about to jump over the conference table and strangle your co-worker, remember the mantra.
At first, my questions were about God. I wanted to know what heaven looked like, why we couldn't visit the dead, why God could apparently hear all of our prayers but we could never have a real conversation with him. I wanted to know if the streets were actually paved in gold, if everyone who was up there recognized each other, if we all died one age but arrived in heaven another. I wanted to know if every day was exactly the same, if people got bored, how it would feel to be happy for the rest of time, for the infinity I was told heaven was all about.
I wanted to know if, once we were dead, we were somehow able to still visit earth and see all the places. All of them. Every inch of this planet. If we could float in the sky, if we could swim in the oceans, if we could do all of this without fear, without worry, without the limitations of being human. I wanted to know if death was some kind of a magic wand that granted us the ability to be super human, super wise, super everything.
As I've grown older, I've added more questions to my list: The List of Unanswerable Questions.
My views on God and heaven and religion have changed. Now, I want to know if we only live one life or many, if there are parallel universes with parallel versions of us, if there is absolutely nothing after we shut our eyes for the last time.
I want to know why we don't use 100% of our brains and what it would really mean if we could.
I want to know what the future holds and I want to be able to see events from the past, to see how things really happened.
I want abilities that do not exist. I want answers to limitations.
When I was very, very little I would keep a mental list of all of my questions. Each night I would repeat them to myself in my head, over and over again, as a way to remember them for the future- the future I believed in where, one day, all of my questions would be answered.
I still believe that future exists. I don't know where or how or when, but I believe one day, somehow, all of the answers will escape and I'll finally get to know.
Things like why we have such a hard time being kind to one another.
Why we live in a world that tolerates hate.
Why things that are so clearly unacceptable haven't changed and why we've ever had to deal with them in the first place.
I am trying to love the questions, even the hardest of the hard, the most painful, the most urgent.
My list has grown longer and my patience shorter, but I wait. I wait for all of us to somehow, someway, live our way into the answers.