Perfection
Basically, what are the implications of a perfect God?
I ask this for 2 reasons:
1) If we, with individual souls (and I use the word soul losely), are seperate to a God, then, rationally, we are comparable to Him, just as good is comparable to not good. If we are comparable, then God cannot be perfect as perfection is like infinity in that it is illogical to compare it to one finite number in a different way to another finite number.
2) So, if God is perfect, and He wouldn't be God if He wasn't, then He is all encapsulating such that there is nothing individual to be compared to God. This means no Devil, no souls, just a oneness (here I use the word oneness losely as even the number one is comparable to other numbers) that permeates existence and is existence. This begs the question of why we feel individual. Also, what does this non-individuality mean for what appears to be our free choice? Are we all simply a manifestation of this ism with the same underlying "essence" of oneness to us? This ism may have free choice, and what we consider to be our own free choice is actually that of the ism.
Not sure how well that was explained, but what are your thoughts on this?
30 Sep 2005 00:45
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robbwindow@lycos.com
Ism’s. They seem to be a logical explanation, although they being a theory and polythemed. Hypnotism, sceptasism or voyeurism there all fancy words that seem to mutate persuates. But if a god is buried deep in our sub-conciouss then who am I or you to explain or even gather a discussive debate between what’s right or wrong, what’s easy and that which is just to difficult.
Again and again I see this debate delivered. Your delivery is fine. It’s just the debate not seases to bore me it’s important. No I just would like to come away from the idea that paying for spirituality matters.
Costing hours and hours of oratory spilling a truth about metapyshical stuff, to not come out looking pretentious or deep. This topic irons out the boys from the girls. The angry to the happy. Or the truth with any ficticious flimsy detections. Etherrreal, invisible showing as a blot on the landscape, wandering aimlessly free from the buttons that man constantly throes into the planet pie. The womens soup.
26 Mar 2007, 13:40
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