HEY YOU KNOW YOU ARE GOING TO DIE right?

[jet3534]

No worries, bro. Once the electrical current stops in our brains, we no longer have any ability to sense or feel anything.

Neuroscience has proven there is no soul separate from the body. Once it goes, so goes our consciousness and everything that makes us self-aware of who we are.

It's nice to imagine there is some glorious afterlife where we dance with angels or get 72 virgins or whatever, but the cold, hard truth is that just as we can't remember anything before we were born, we will remember nothing after either.

Enjoy life while you still can, and try to make the most of it.

Maybe leave the world a slightly better place if you can.

Are you familiar with the research done by Dr. Ian Stevenson? There is a scientific case to be made with respect to reincarnation.

[LAGC]

And just how did neuroscience prove their was no soul? I assume you will tell us first how exactly did they define what a "soul" is and then the methodology they used to set the parameters for how a soul could pr could not exist, and then point us to the peer review of their work...without quoting wikipeed.

The same definition the dictionary uses:

noun
1.
the principle of life, feeling, thought, and action in humans...

In short, our very ability to be self-aware and have consciousness itself.

I'm not going to derail this thread with a bunch of scientific arguments, but if you're genuinely curious as to how our minds really are completely dependent on our physical brains to exist, read some of the studies on Google Scholar: http://scholar.google.com/scholar?hl=en&q=consciousness

My original reply was mainly responding to the OP's "morbid and scary" comment -- there's no need to fear death.

BYW...would your song be "Folsum Prison Blues"?

Actually, I'm not a big music buff. Although I do enjoy some lyric-less techno and video game electronica.

I've already made my intentions to my loved ones known: my funeral should be low-key, no "pomp and circumstance", no preachers -- basically the exact opposite of Joan Rivers' funeral.

Just cremate me and spread my ashes across Flathead Lake up in western Montana.

[Richard Simmons]

We don't need song suggestions for other members as other members are not the topic of the thread.

[l921428x]

Fair enough and since I didn't earlier:

It would be acoustical.
Easy to listen to, not too complicated and something that would come to mind every once and a while
Little Martha by Duane Allman

try this to me lyric and music are beautiful
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpNOoq0kFds

[N/A]

We don't need song suggestions for other members as other members are not the topic of the thread.

I think I asked him a question...not a suggestion.

BTW, I agree the topic of the thread is songs, but if he decides to troll the subject by throwing in his atheist ideas about a soul...then he is fair game. It would only be fair to us that he is warned to also stay strictly on subject.

[Goodman]

Sorry for feeding it, but I saw this and, well, ya know---

Once the electrical current stops in our brains, we no longer have any ability to sense or feel anything.

Neuroscience has proven there is no soul separate from the body. Once it goes, so goes our consciousness and everything that makes us self-aware of who we are.

For you, Nick:
"Looking for consciousness in the brain is like looking inside a radio for the announcer." - Nassim Haramein

[blacksheep]

Let the bodies hit the floor.

[alismith]

[alismith]

THANATOPSIS

by: William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878)


To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
Into his darker musings, with a mild
And healing sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart;--
Go forth, under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings, while from all around--
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air--
Comes a still voice--Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more
In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist
Thy image. Earth, that nourish'd thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix for ever with the elements,
To be a brother to the insensible rock,
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.

Yet not to thine eternal resting-place
Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world--with kings,
The powerful of the earth--the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills
Rock-ribb'd and ancient as the sun,--the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods; rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and, pour'd round all,
Old Ocean's grey and melancholy waste,--
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom.--Take the wings
Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon and hears no sound
Save his own dashings--yet the dead are there:
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep--the dead reign there alone.
So shalt thou rest: and what if thou withdraw
In silence from the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glides away, the sons of men,
The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron and maid,
The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man--
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side
By those who in their turn shall follow them.

So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged by his dungeon; but, sustain'd and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.


"Thanatopsis" is reprinted from Yale Book of American Verse. Ed. Thomas R. Lounsbury. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1912.

Read more at http://www.poetry-archive.com/b/than...UfqrAj1rzfw.99

[mrkalashnikov]

This is the music my wife played on her viola when we interred my mom's ashes into the river which flows through my brother's farm back in Ohio. Obviously this is Samuel Barber's full symphonic piece but I would like something similar if not with a full orchestra: