Contemplating existence in a chat room at night

  Donald5555 Looks around unsure if the days mist will clear and happiness will reveal views of green and boundless creativity any time soon but remains convinced the day is coming.

 Donald5555 There has to be another order of creativity unseen that can be constructed from all the creativity we see and experience, and also from the creativity we don't see, an order of creativity if life's conditions used that same creativity differently would change experience, eliminate death, take away pain, make emotion joyful, make our environment free of struggle and unpleasantness.

 Donald5555 There might be a way creativity can be altered in such a way to bring complete peace, unending joy, pleasure, discovery, different then now, without the fear, uncertainty, so that what we encounter is experienced anxiety free; there must be a way that life's burdens can be lifted bringing to our appreciation great good.

Donald5555 We assume the organization of reality as we know it is random and unintelligently made; if we assume this we assume wrong. The world we're in is not the best of all possible worlds, not even close, but is a stage, an environment we're in to grow.

 Donald5555 One of mans biggest fears, often without realizing it, is that life makes no sense meaning it leads nowhere, that there is no explanation behind what we now try and prove is a source of intelligence with a purpose, and this fear is unusual, and mysteries; it leads to great scientific, philosophical, theological, poetic pursuits involving great speculation, profound contemplation, like the consideration of the natural world and its magnificent diversity and sophistication.

 Donald5555 To just sit in a meadow on a summer night at dusk with the faint image of the moon in the slowly darkening sky as bats take flight, and mosquito's circle; ahead is a pond where frogs peep and in the long grass a critter moves.

 Donald5555 To sit among the willow, the poplar, the pine, the sounds of the forest around you; the cry of a panicked bird somewhere in the hidden trees; the days light waning with the stars in the sky etching slowly into view. To ponder there one's mortality and the reaches of possibility, to poeticize upon the majestic mystery of reality.