|digital painting by Lohbado|
This was a novel idea to Lohbado who grew up in a religious tradition which taught he was basically bad and needed to beg forgiveness and grovel before a creator for the rest of eternity or be damned in the lake of eternal fire. There wasn't much choice. Repent, be saved, or be damned. If he hadn't been born, none of this would be happening. He would have no reason to repent. It didn't make sense to repent for having been born, since it was all beyond his control.
Lohbado screamed when he was born, a hearty howl to clear the lungs. He went for mother's breast. Rosemary Stumps rolled the nipple so baby Peter Stumps could get a good latch, then he sucked for dear life.
Instead of grumbling, Lohbado was instructed to view pain, confusion and irritation as a catalyst to avoid sinking into depressive inertia. Pain was a whip to make him dance about and study ancient wisdom. It woke him to the nature of the mysteries of existence and consciousness. The everyday world of Lohbado occurred within brackets of the knowable. Outside the brackets was that about which he could say nothing. It was inexpressible and perhaps unknowable, although he could sense something was out there. The nature of being limited implied the existence of the unlimited. He could say nothing about the ultimate nature of existence. He couldn't say life was painful, since he had no idea about the infinite nature of life, beyond his finite experience within his lifespan. His personal experience of pain did not mean there was any problem with existence. When something hurt, it merely meant it hurt. Confusion was confusing. Suffering did not affect the vast and profound nature of existence. Suffering was related to his finite sense of self in reaction to whatever caused the upset and had nothing to do with infinite being.