Occasionally I Contemplate Murder 5
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ome people die, and really live to tell about it. Do they have wonderful tales!
But a few do, during that period of non-being, have vivid experiences, which seem to be similar in every case.
Brought out of their body, they watch it for a time and feel very estranged. Then they enter a long tunnel of light, travelling through it at an incomprehensible speed. At the end of this tunnel, they are approached by someone. A loving, splendorous being.
Well, a kind of Jesus.
It must be an overwhelming experience, possible only in a state of non-being.
All the time of life lived, sometimes joyous, sometimes not, luring behind me. It's simply too much.
Beautiful, yes, but too much.
He is, though, of a very understanding and forgiving nature.
It seems the only punishment they get for their evil — or mostly just stupid — deeds, is that moment of embarrassment. To view their so-called sin, together with such a witness, and to feel shame.
Think of it!
To have them shared, as clearly as were they relived, with a wondrous being of light and love, in that very domain which is the border between life and something else — that must surely be a purgatory as hot as any fire.
One needs to be forgiven.
I don't see that I've committed a plenitude of evil deeds. However, even if my actions have not been overly savage — might they have been as sinful in intent, as any beastly brutality?
Calculation is the most compromising — to plan and execute a deed, fully wishing for the consequences of it. In cold blood, we call it.
Blood should not be cold.
This is it:
The cat was, of course, fighting to get out, but not for long.
Soon enough, the cat fell still inside the bag, while the balls were hitting at it. I think we threw them as hard as we were able to.
A strange intermezzo.
I'm sure the cat wondered what it was all about. Us boys did, too. But oh, such lust was involved in throwing those balls!
What stopped us, I think, was not really our conscience, but embarrassment from the great pleasure it induced in us. Pleasure of any size tends to intimidate us human beings.
When finally we let the cat out of the bag, it was quite unharmed — at least physically. The canvas of the bag was so thick, it must have offered the cat a good enough protection, I keep telling myself.
I must confess that I threw them with much more enthusiasm than did he. Partly, but only partly, because the cat belonged — if such a word can at all be used about a cat, or about any living thing — to my family.
Well, my friend glared pensively, puzzled to find such a compulsion in me.
Although not exactly a kind of Jesus, his presence made my deed much more embarrassing to me — at the time of it, and ever since.
Still, I'm convinced that the kind of Jesus will find much more tender spots in my conscience. I would too, of course, if I made an honest attempt.
I do not.
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I'm a Swedish author of fiction and non-fiction books in both Swedish and English. I'm also an artist, an historian of ideas and a 7 dan Aikikai Shihan aikido instructor. Click the header to read my full bio.