BIRTH AND DEATH ARE MERE OBJECTIVE REALITIES

It is one of the most absurd ideas to think that death can do to man what life could not do. Being born and dying are mere objective realities, which, by themselves, do not affect his real destiny. On a higher level of consciousness, only intense living places man in contact with more real worlds. Therefore, being born and dying are external determinisms that depend on factors foreign to his true being.

Man is born by the will and mercy of his parents; he lives thanks to the food assimilated; dies due to illness, accident or longevity. However, none of this touches his true reality, which is his free will, his self-determination, this mysterious and glorious “power of being the own cause.”

Einstein and all those who think logically said that “from the world of facts (science), there is no path to the world of values (consciousness), because they come from another region”, making it clear that value is a creation of the free will, which does not happen by default because it is a product of the will. A fact is just a historical event in which man is a passive object but not an active subject. Of values, man is the author, but of facts, he is just a spectator.

The creation of values depends on free will, whether inside or outside the material body. In any part of the Cosmos, in any environment - material, etheric, astral, causal, mental, etc., free will works. An environment that can facilitate or hinder the exercise of the will to create values. However, no environment can make it impossible; in any environment, inside or outside the material world, one can say, as the English poet of “INVICTUS”: “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul”.

Therefore, Einstein's “region” mentioned is the self-determination of the free will, which does not depend on any objective fact; the Self substance is independent of the tyrannical ego’s circumstances. 

 

INVICTUS

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeoning's of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.        William Ernest Henley (1849–1903)