Creationist Explains How Humans Could Have Hunted The Tyrannosaurus Rex

[Sammi79]

Originally Posted by Sailor Steve

My only question here is whether you stole my philosophy or I stole yours. I used to be a believer, and the thing that led me to my present postition was doubt. I've been wrong so many times about so many things that I realized I could be wrong about my faith as well. Other things led me to stop thinking about it at all, and when I did I tried to believe again, but had too many doubts. I tried to be a devout Atheist, if you will, but knew I could be as wrong about that as well. At that point I started asking questions, and the more questions I asked the less answers I had.

I was brought up firmly agnostic, neither position on belief was encouraged or discouraged, for which I am grateful. Over my 34 years I have phased in and out of entertaining various metaphysical imaginations, none bearing any resemblance to any religion or scripture, apart from the soul concept, which between the ages of 11-16 I was more than confident in the truth of it. In those time I had a worldview roughly along the lines of a bad cosmic joke, that nothing that gradually evolved could become so ludicrous and contrary.

As you are agnostic, I feel comfortable relating one of my imaginations that stuck with me for a long time after the accidental death of a close school friend when I was 12. It was the first time I'd experienced that total numbing of emotion that occurs when a psychologically traumatic event is first felt, possibly as a shock absorbing mechanism. I cried for days but I felt nothing. It was a truly bizarre experience for me. The phrase 'I think therefore I am.' is more accurate if think is changed to feel. Anyway, after about a week, the emotions started to surface again one by one. Anger at the lorry driver and a furious desire to know the exact circumstances of his death came first, then later that week of course the grief set in, not having said goodbye etc. and upon learning the circumstances (like the trucker had his own 9 year old son in the cab with him, it was a complete freak accident on a warm sunny day, the truck was passing on the opposite lane and for some eternally unknowable reason Stanley on a bicycle suddenly swerved right out in front of him.) all anger and fury at the driver immediately melted into real pity for him and his son. I heard he stopped working and acquired an alcohol problem for a while but happily not too long, and with not much damage.

Now the first part of my imagining stems from a dream I had shortly thereafter. I was in the house I grew up in, and Stanley was there. Only he was all busted up in my imagination from being squashed by a truck. I said something like, 'Woah, Stan. You look awful, are you Ok?' to which he replied 'I feel [expletive] awful, what you think?' I felt another pang of grief and woke up. I thought for a few days about the feeling of his presence and at that time I was pretty convinced his soul had actually visited me, for which I was grateful, but a bit bemused about the circumstance of the dream. It wasn't very nice. Then a week later on the dot, I had another dream.

If you have read the 'Winnie the Pooh' books then you'll know about the final goodbye tea party at the end of the final book, in a light fir tree wood with a late afternoon sun shining through underneath the branches. A long wooden table with 2 long benches and a chair at either end. Symbolically this story is about Christopher Robin growing up, and leaving behind his childhood fantasies of talking stuffed pets, who are all the guests at his meal of honour. In my dream I was in the place I had imagined from my childhood reading. Stanley was there, absolutely back to his old self, smiling, mischievous. My parents and sister were also guests as were his parents and brother. I had such a warm feeling, it is very hard to describe, but without any doubt I knew that this was Stans goodbye tea party. I remember no more, but I will never forget what I do remember about it.

When I awoke from this dream, the grief was still there, but somehow inhibited. It had the edge taken off. The funeral was bloomin' tragic, inevitably under the circumstances. the hymns in the church had just about everyone in uncontrollable tears. Over the subsequent years I mused on my dreams and my boosted conviction in the concept of the soul, and I came to the imagination that -

Imagine that there are an infinite number of alternate dimensions or realities co-existing simultaneously, but crucially each and every soul exists in all of them. When you make choices you step into realities limited by your choices. When in one reality a soul is subjected to an unnatural or unfortunate death, its experience is immediately and seamlessly Shifted into a reality where its choices did not lead inadvertently to its death. I had personally had a few real experiences that did not immediately occur to me that I was inches, or seconds, from my own painful death until afterward, and this seemed to support my imaginary world.

The implications of this metaphysical fantasy are quite profound. Every living thing gets to live a full natural life, without ever experiencing the pain of a premature or unnatural death. Maybe the last transference leaves you in heaven, I don't know. I have never liked the concept itself alongside hell, and I firmly believe that the scriptural meaning of these are symbolic descriptions of life in reality. Now, disregarding my lack of need for heaven, is that not a nice comforting thought? I don't often tell people about that as to my mind it would appear quite irrelevant to them being based on my own unfalsifiable experience. Of course I do not believe it now, I never truly did. It still brings me comfort to remember though. My current conclusion on the whole matter is that my subconscious mind built those dreams for me, in order to heal the grief wound. It didn't quite work the first time, so I got another, much more powerful and vivid one.

When I was 22, I read and re read Catch 22 - alongside Slaughterhouse 5 and found my favorite books of all time. Shortly after I met the first person in my life that would simply not entertain the concept of the soul, under any circumstances. That was intriguing to me as it seemed so rare, and at first I could not understand how anyone could deny the existence of souls. That was the start of a gradual slide to where I am now, with no conviction in metaphysics at all, a few old comforting imaginations, and no weight on my back.

So we came to similar conclusions after having life experiences half a world apart I guess. As a born agnostic and grown atheist if you will, I assume our experiences are markedly different. If I may ask, did you find any part of your transition unpleasant in any way, and how long did it take you?

It would gladden me to hear that you did not suffer.

Originally Posted by Sailor Steve

Again I agree. I put my take on it into a song I wrote a few years ago.

Those are groovy lines Sailor Steve, I am a singer/guitarist myself of sorts though I tend to (not always) play covers. The best lines I ever came up with were;

Born with vision, learn to be blind.
Born to freedom, become self confined.
Lose the way, find it hard to find,
A little peace of mind.

Born to passion, gives way to lust.
Born to love, betrays mistrust.
All I am is worth my weight in dust.
Do what you must.

Not much I grant you, but I like it.

P.S. sorry for the text explosion I don't quite know how I became so verbose. I really enjoy discussions on this forum, like no other.