In the film The Ruling Class, Peter O'Toole plays a mentally-ill English lord who thinks he's Jesus. "If you're Jesus, then show me a miracle," someone demands. He shows the doubter his own hand, "this city network of tissues, nerves, muscles, ligaments, carpals and metacarpals, phalanges." How strong, how sensitive, how adaptable, how beautiful.
The doubter demands "a proper miracle like the loaves and the fishes."
The crazy lord replies: "You see ten billion million miracles a day, yet you want your conjuring tricks, your pretty flimflams."
That being said: the dead speak to me every day, in books, on film or on audio recordings. Just yesterday I was reading some speeches and letters of Abraham Lincoln on the occasion of his 198th birthday.
My brother Danny died 10 years ago, in an accident. He was 31, young, handsome, full of life. I was asked to give his eulogy. The night before the funeral Danny appeared to me, I literally heard his voice telling me what to say, and telling me jokes. It gave me goosebumps but I wasn't afraid, there was so much humor there. I used everything he told me the next day, and I got many, many comments on that eulogy. Also, as I turned around while speaking (his casket was behind me) I saw Danny standing behind his casket, smiling, almost laughing. Honest to God. I didn't say anything, but I was quite blown away. I couldn't say much to anyone, (obviously) But I felt so much mirth throughout his funeral because he kept coming to me. I had to keep it under wraps.
I do not believe in malicious forces that are out to get me, but I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if there did exist a misguided few on the other side of life that would share information of questionable quality. I think it unwise to believe the dead automatically know more than we do. Things may not be so different from the world we're used to.
We see things differently Lucid. I personally believe there are demonic forces in the spiritual realm that are "out there" wanting to destroy things, myself one of them. I'm not arguing your beliefs okay? But I've also seen miracles happen in the name of "Christ." I also believe that gaurding angels do exist protecting each child of God. Actually I would be horrified to speak to anyone who had died lost and is in Hell "where the worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched." I'd rather hear from my loved ones who are in Heaven. They have seen the Lord in person sitting on his throne. One day I'll get to see my Mom again there :) The dead do know more because they have witnessed first hand the reality of "Life beyond the grave." I can't prove there's life after death, but no one can't prove there isn't either. I base my belief entirely upon what my Lord Jesus said about the afterlife. But I will add that I'd stake my very own life That There Is Life after Death. For I have seen too many things to convince me there is life beyond the grave. There is more to life than meets the eyes. A spiritual world uncharted by mankind......
Michael Burton said... "The dead speak to me every day[...]. It doesn't have to be magic to be magic."
Beautifully said. You're very wise, Michael.
Laurie, as surprising as this may sound, I have no difficulty believing that you ACTUALLY heard and saw your brother. Hey, why not? Precisely because you kept it under wraps, because it was just between you and Danny. I know I would try to do the same if it happened to me : give a loving farewell, in person, to the beloved ones I'd be leaving behind. And I also hope with all my heart somebody goes Python on me at my funeral. Please! I absolutely want to leave a fond and happy memory when I depart. Maybe I should write it on my will. (Along with some pointers?...) Too bad Rodney Dangerfield's not there anymore to do my eulogy. Maybe I'll talk to John Cleese. Rodney wrote his own epitaph in advance, and it's now on his tomb : Rodney Dangerfield - There goes the neighborhood!
I had a black cat that died a few years ago. Terrible temper, but we loved him very much, and we knew it was mutual. That cat could very well have said "I need no friends", and yet we were his. I keep his memory forever alive by remembering all his crazy antics, and they were many! Bigger felines prefered to give him a wide berth, from painful experience. Even dogs. No moth, housefly, bat, lizard, snake or tarantula ever taunted him once and lived to brag about it after he went Wolverine on their tushies. His name was taboo among rats, mentioning him only by the whisper of "the Great Dark Death". ...And I shall cast my shadow over all critters. For the pests cannot stand the green glowing eyes of Mimi Siku. Who could ever forget the day we let him play with a chicken head snatched from the kitchen? He started franticly juggling it all around, and it was wilder than a Disney cartoon! Disgusting, but it had us laughing to tears. I can still almost see him. Sometimes, I feel like he's at the corner of my eye watching me, and I turn around. The life he had with us is still there. (And we have the scars to prove it!!!) A proud, untamable, wild beast, that graced us by consenting to live under our roof and eat what we served him -IF it was tasty!-, like some arrogant yet benevolent Egyptian divinity. With the grace of a siamese, the deep voice of a Pavarotti, the stealth of a night shadow, and the confidence of a proud panther. It's not all over when we depart. Our life, our actions, our past presence, are still very much there. As you said, Michael. Every time I see a black cat with green eyes, I remember that I knew the one that topped them all. (According to him, can't argue with that! If you know what's good for ya...)
He was just an animal, but he gave us all he had to give. Thinking of the relative difference of a human life, I can only imagine how much more intense and rich it can be. My grandfather, on my mother's side, departed way too early. And yet, through those who knew him well, I feel incredibly close to that old grouch. I know part of him lives in me, and I know very well which part of me that is. He's not silent. Not with somebody as chatty as ME speaking as part of him. :-)
Lucid Twilight said... "If I'd listened to my elders over the years, I'd be quite miserable. That's because they were miserable people."
Tell me about it. :-( That's the story of my lebanese youth right there! One of the greatest problems with this country is how most people dream emptily about the "good old days of past" returning "by the grace of God". Do you know what the founding basis of lebanese pride is, as taught in school? "We brought the alphabet to the world"! Ergo, without the phoenicians, there would evidently never have been any civilization, no way! (Um... not even that famous one in China?) Wake up, people, that was two thousand years ago! And it doesn't exactly put food on the plate, either. Ask the outside world what the name Lebanon brings up to them for a hard return to reality. As for the dead, over here they're not for listening to. Only to talk about. Preferably to exploit their legacy in shameless corrupt ways. Especially the martyrs. And there you have it, Lebanon's culture and politics in a nutshell. Emphasis on "nut"... Between "nut-shell" and "nuts-hell", there's very little difference.
But don't anybody dare speak ill of my country! That's a national privilege that has to be earned! ;-P
10 comments:
... Perhaps, but I know that if I heard the dead speaking to me, I would listen!
-- Eolake Stobblehouse
Your whole outlook on this life would change dramaticallyif that could happen.
In the film The Ruling Class, Peter O'Toole plays a mentally-ill English lord who thinks he's Jesus. "If you're Jesus, then show me a miracle," someone demands. He shows the doubter his own hand, "this city network of tissues, nerves, muscles, ligaments, carpals and metacarpals, phalanges." How strong, how sensitive, how adaptable, how beautiful.
The doubter demands "a proper miracle like the loaves and the fishes."
The crazy lord replies: "You see ten billion million miracles a day, yet you want your conjuring tricks, your pretty flimflams."
That being said: the dead speak to me every day, in books, on film or on audio recordings. Just yesterday I was reading some speeches and letters of Abraham Lincoln on the occasion of his 198th birthday.
It doesn't have to be magic to be magic.
My brother Danny died 10 years ago, in an accident. He was 31, young, handsome, full of life. I was asked to give his eulogy. The night before the funeral Danny appeared to me, I literally heard his voice telling me what to say, and telling me jokes. It gave me goosebumps but I wasn't afraid, there was so much humor there. I used everything he told me the next day, and I got many, many comments on that eulogy. Also, as I turned around while speaking (his casket was behind me) I saw Danny standing behind his casket, smiling, almost laughing. Honest to God. I didn't say anything, but I was quite blown away. I couldn't say much to anyone, (obviously) But I felt so much mirth throughout his funeral because he kept coming to me. I had to keep it under wraps.
Laurie
That's amazing.
---
Talking of mirth, I saw a video from Graham Chapman's funeral. You'll remember he was one of the Pythons.
John Cleese went Python doing the eulogy and totally trashed Graham. Everybody was in stitches. It was beautiful.
Danny standing behind his casket, smiling, almost laughing. Honest to God.
Are you sure it was Danny?
Yep.
We think that people die but it's our vision that's not alive.
signalroom said...
We think that people die but it's our vision that's not alive.
Oh, people die everyday. Their body dies but their souls live on for eternity in one of two destinations.
I do not believe in malicious forces that are out to get me, but I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if there did exist a misguided few on the other side of life that would share information of questionable quality. I think it unwise to believe the dead automatically know more than we do. Things may not be so different from the world we're used to.
We see things differently Lucid. I personally believe there are demonic forces in the spiritual realm that are "out there" wanting to destroy things, myself one of them.
I'm not arguing your beliefs okay? But I've also seen miracles happen in the name of "Christ."
I also believe that gaurding angels do exist protecting each child of God.
Actually I would be horrified to speak to anyone who had died lost and is in Hell "where the worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched."
I'd rather hear from my loved ones who are in Heaven. They have seen the Lord in person sitting on his throne. One day I'll get to see my Mom again there :)
The dead do know more because they have witnessed first hand the reality of "Life beyond the grave."
I can't prove there's life after death, but no one can't prove there isn't either. I base my belief entirely upon what my Lord Jesus said about the afterlife.
But I will add that I'd stake my very own life That There Is Life after Death. For I have seen too many things to convince me there is life beyond the grave.
There is more to life than meets the eyes. A spiritual world uncharted by mankind......
Michael Burton said...
"The dead speak to me every day[...]. It doesn't have to be magic to be magic."
Beautifully said. You're very wise, Michael.
Laurie, as surprising as this may sound, I have no difficulty believing that you ACTUALLY heard and saw your brother. Hey, why not? Precisely because you kept it under wraps, because it was just between you and Danny.
I know I would try to do the same if it happened to me : give a loving farewell, in person, to the beloved ones I'd be leaving behind.
And I also hope with all my heart somebody goes Python on me at my funeral. Please! I absolutely want to leave a fond and happy memory when I depart. Maybe I should write it on my will. (Along with some pointers?...)
Too bad Rodney Dangerfield's not there anymore to do my eulogy. Maybe I'll talk to John Cleese.
Rodney wrote his own epitaph in advance, and it's now on his tomb :
Rodney Dangerfield - There goes the neighborhood!
I had a black cat that died a few years ago. Terrible temper, but we loved him very much, and we knew it was mutual. That cat could very well have said "I need no friends", and yet we were his. I keep his memory forever alive by remembering all his crazy antics, and they were many! Bigger felines prefered to give him a wide berth, from painful experience. Even dogs. No moth, housefly, bat, lizard, snake or tarantula ever taunted him once and lived to brag about it after he went Wolverine on their tushies. His name was taboo among rats, mentioning him only by the whisper of "the Great Dark Death".
...And I shall cast my shadow over all critters. For the pests cannot stand the green glowing eyes of Mimi Siku.
Who could ever forget the day we let him play with a chicken head snatched from the kitchen? He started franticly juggling it all around, and it was wilder than a Disney cartoon! Disgusting, but it had us laughing to tears.
I can still almost see him. Sometimes, I feel like he's at the corner of my eye watching me, and I turn around. The life he had with us is still there. (And we have the scars to prove it!!!) A proud, untamable, wild beast, that graced us by consenting to live under our roof and eat what we served him -IF it was tasty!-, like some arrogant yet benevolent Egyptian divinity. With the grace of a siamese, the deep voice of a Pavarotti, the stealth of a night shadow, and the confidence of a proud panther.
It's not all over when we depart. Our life, our actions, our past presence, are still very much there. As you said, Michael.
Every time I see a black cat with green eyes, I remember that I knew the one that topped them all. (According to him, can't argue with that! If you know what's good for ya...)
He was just an animal, but he gave us all he had to give. Thinking of the relative difference of a human life, I can only imagine how much more intense and rich it can be.
My grandfather, on my mother's side, departed way too early. And yet, through those who knew him well, I feel incredibly close to that old grouch. I know part of him lives in me, and I know very well which part of me that is. He's not silent. Not with somebody as chatty as ME speaking as part of him. :-)
Lucid Twilight said...
"If I'd listened to my elders over the years, I'd be quite miserable. That's because they were miserable people."
Tell me about it. :-(
That's the story of my lebanese youth right there!
One of the greatest problems with this country is how most people dream emptily about the "good old days of past" returning "by the grace of God". Do you know what the founding basis of lebanese pride is, as taught in school? "We brought the alphabet to the world"! Ergo, without the phoenicians, there would evidently never have been any civilization, no way! (Um... not even that famous one in China?)
Wake up, people, that was two thousand years ago! And it doesn't exactly put food on the plate, either. Ask the outside world what the name Lebanon brings up to them for a hard return to reality.
As for the dead, over here they're not for listening to. Only to talk about. Preferably to exploit their legacy in shameless corrupt ways. Especially the martyrs.
And there you have it, Lebanon's culture and politics in a nutshell. Emphasis on "nut"...
Between "nut-shell" and "nuts-hell", there's very little difference.
But don't anybody dare speak ill of my country! That's a national privilege that has to be earned! ;-P
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