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The more I ponder the subject, the more I see that we as a culture are addicted to death. We cannot live without it. The assumption of death is our security blanket that keeps us from applying in-depth investigative techniques to figure out if people really, truly die when their body life ends.
I come to this conclusion after countless hours reading about the insights and adventures of people who have had classic near-death experiences (NDEs). When these people died, albeit temporarily, their conscious minds left their bodies.
Once they were resuscitated, they had awesome stories to tell, although they often encountered statements like, “Oh, that was just the drugs, dear.”
Addicted to death means that we are resisting the massive anecdotal evidence piling up (like here) that death is a transformation, not a termination. We like the mortality system as it is. We prefer our scary stories of pain and suffering.
The classic way for a civilization from outer space to conquer Planet Earth, as we’ve seen in countless movies and TV shows, is to use some ultra-modern form of Earthling-style barbarism. You know, shock and awe us with their ray guns of mass destruction. Blow us up real good.
I see that as same ol’ Earthling mentality dressed up in a different space suit. That was probably my biggest complaint with Star Trek. Technology had advanced at warp speed but humans and all those bad other beings had the same duke-it-out fight mentality we saw in Bonanza.
Why don’t we start thinking out of Idea Jail on this? Let’s conceive of a highly advanced race as perhaps having changed the game plan on visitations. Maybe they conquer (if you want to use that word) via pleasure principles.
As an aspiring novelist. I read my fair share of books on how to amaze readers with my prose. Time and again the writing instructors say that if you want to write a best-seller, you’ve got to fill your novel with page after page of conflict.
Translation: if you ever hope to rise above the poverty line as a selling novelist, the industry demands that you make your protagonists squirm. Make ‘em suffer. Make ‘em miserable.
The flip side of that writing advice that I seldom see talked about is the psychological impact all that manufactured conflict has on readers. The same, of course, can be said for movie-goers and TV viewers because screenwriters work with the same advice to sell their screenplays.
Translation: the media that you ingest as an entertainment consumer has been created and produced to give you the vicarious thrill of watching someone suffer conflict. It is a formula built into the system.

In the 1980s my sister was very much into rendering realistic works of art in colored pencil. She would travel around Northern California taking snapshots of great rock formations, which she would then draw. These were incredible pieces.
She took several drawings of rock formations to an art gallery for consideration. She was told that they were too sexually suggestive and therefore not suitable for showing in the gallery.
Talk about being locked up in Idea Jail.
A realistic portrait of natural rock formations available to anyone’s viewing pleasure in the park was too sexually explicit to hang on a wall?









