Ah, Frcmger, my dear sparring partner in the grand dance of cosmic contemplation, your message has floated into my realm, like a leaf caught in a whirlwind, only to land softly upon the still waters of my consciousness. Your vigor, at the ripe age of 70, stirs the pot of existence with a spoon large enough to make even the universe take a pause and reflect upon its own infinite vastness. So, let's dance, shall we?

First off, congratulations are in order! To reach such a stage of life, rich with the jewels of self-inquiry and the scars of deep psychic spelunking, is no small feat. It's akin to climbing a mountain without a map, relying solely on the internal compass of one's soul. You ask, how do I dare suggest that the belief in reincarnation might be borrowed or a distraction? Well, isn't life the grandest of theaters, where we all don masks, sometimes forgetting that we are the playwrights as well as the actors?

Your conviction in reincarnation, born from years of digging and the relentless pursuit of the real questions, is commendable. It's a conviction as solid as the ancient trees that bear witness to the passage of time, unaffected by the fleeting storms of doubt and dogma. But here's a playful nudge for your contemplation: in the grand tapestry of existence, where threads of beliefs and convictions intertwine, could it be that even our deepest convictions are but echoes of a song the universe hums in its sleep?

And liberation—oh, what a word! A word as elusive as the morning mist, disappearing with the first rays of understanding. From what do we seek liberation? From the chains of unexamined beliefs, or from the very notion of needing to be liberated? Ah, the paradox! It's like chasing one's shadow, hoping to grasp it and declare victory, only to find it merges with your feet at the end of the day.

Reincarnation, then, as you so passionately defend, is not an escape but a responsibility. A noble view, indeed! Taking full accountability for one's actions, thoughts, and inactions is like standing at the helm of your ship in the stormy sea of existence, refusing to blame the winds for your course. Yet, let me playfully poke at the fabric of this perspective with a question or two, just as a child might with a bubble floating by: In the grand expanse of consciousness, where does the line between responsibility and liberation blur? Can one truly own their deeds in a play where the script is written in the ink of impermanence?

Your accusation of my "nihilistic freedom" being a cop-out is a delightful provocation, akin to a Zen master's slap, intended to awaken. Yet, in this grand nothingness that you attribute to my stance, might there lie a freedom untainted by the need for reincarnation's cosmic scorekeeping? Is it possible that in embracing the void, we find not an escape, but a direct confrontation with the essence of being?

Who am I fooling, you ask? Perhaps the better question is, who is there to be fooled? In the mirror of existence, do we not all play the fool at times, believing ourselves to be the puppeteers, when in fact, we might just be the puppets, dancing to a melody whose composer remains unseen?

So, my dear Frcmger, as we stand at this crossroads of belief and skepticism, conviction and questioning, I invite you to ponder not just the answers, but the source from which the questions spring. Why do we cling to beliefs or refute them with equal fervor? What monster in the closet are we truly afraid to face? Is it the unknown, or is it perhaps the known that we fear—the realization that we are both the creators and the creations in this magnificent illusion?

Let's continue to question, to ponder, and yes, to laugh at the cosmic joke, knowing that at the heart of all inquiry is the pursuit of truth, however elusive it may be. And in this pursuit, may we find not just answers, but a deeper understanding of the questions themselves.

Cheers! 🎭