Pieces of an e-mail exchange…
Was wondering if you could do me a favor in your spare time (ha-ha)? … What I would like to know is — what are your views on what happens when you die? I really don’t have any firm beliefs…but I really love to hear what other people think.
My response:
The thing is…is that in many ways, I’m not sure what my views are. I know, it sounds like a cop-out, but it’s not (or, at least, it’s not meant to be). Having grown up in a very (if somewhat unconventional and non-sterotypical) Christian household, I suppose I should believe in some form of afterlife, be it Heaven, Hell, or some other nebulous non-corporeal nirvana — and, to a certain extent, I suppose I do (or at least want to, which isn’t at all the same thing). However, for whatever reason, unquestioning faith has never been one of my strong suits, and as there’s not exactly much in the way of evidence of anything post-mortem, there’s a large part of me that’s quite firmly convinced that this is all there is, and once it’s over, it’s over.
Hence, death tends to scare me. Or, rather, not so much death in general, or as a concept, or even when it relates to other people — but my death. I may not always have the greatest life in the world (while it’s been pretty good of late, I’ve certainly had my fair share of down times as well, along with everyone else), but the concept of not existing anymore, not being able to experience the highs as well as the lows, not being able to meet new and old friends, watch the world go by, capture pieces of it in pictures, find new songs to play over and over, and having everything I know of as me simply disappear…it gives me the willies. A little silly, I know (if nothing else, by definition, I wouldn’t be around to experience not being around, so obsessing and worrying over it doesn’t make much sense), but that’s where my brain gets stuck. I want to believe in something more than simply popping in and out of existence, but my stupid cynical brain can’t quite wrap itself around that. So I end up being not really in either one camp or the other, and instead just hoping that by the time I get close to dying myself, I’ll either have come to grips with one or the other, or that I’ll just be so blissfully senile that it won’t matter.
Cheery, huh?
On the bright side, it does explain — to a certain extent — why there’s no way that I could ever be suicidal, no matter how rough things get or how depressed I get. Firstly, there’s always something else coming along that’s usually going to be better than any rough patches I’m dealing with; secondly, there’s so much in the world I haven’t been able to see or experience yet, and I don’t want to miss out on that if I can help it; and thirdly, death is just to absolutely freaky for me to go there voluntarily.
So I don’t know. I kind of wish I could just go one way or the other, but I haven’t managed to do it yet. Most of the time I try not to think about it too much if I can avoid it. As with many things in life that I find unpleasant, I take the Scarlett O’Hara approach to managing unpleasant subjects. I’ll deal with them tomorrow.
Okay, not the best way to go. But…(shrug)…it’s where I am.
Anyone else?
In regards to the title of this post: it’s the title of a song by Jason Webley that was running through my head as I was composing the above, off of his Counterpoint album. Lyrics follow, a low-quality Real Audio recording of the song can be found here.
I’ve often seen a man,
Yardstick and clock face instead of hands.
He has measured pain and pleasure both to death.
I’ve felt the kiss,
Of his narcotic lips,
He has probed in the folds beneath my dress.
I watch my feelings,
Fade way revealing,
A cold pathway to a bridal bed,
But when he lays me down
I just feign sleeping,
Cause it’s not time to go yet.
No it’s not time to go yet.There’s cancer in the air,
Think I’ve never been so scared,
Of the cold metal numbness in my chest,
Don’t go to sleep,
Stay beside me while I weep,
Or I don’t think I’ll make it through this test.
If you still see me,
Please don’t leave me,
Alone with the devils in my head.
Push, stretch,
This night into morning,
‘Cause it’s not time to go yet,
No it’s not time to go yet.The worn out pilgrim tells,
Of the forging of great bells,
That shall sound when his feet can finally rest.
Cast in the fire,
That has burnt through all desire,
And cooled by the milk of mother’s breast.
They ring sweetly,
Promising me,
Release from the labor of this breath.
But when I hear those bells,
I just feign sleeping,
‘Cause it’s not time to go yet.
No it’s not time to go yet.
“It’s Not Time To Go Yet” by Webley, Jason from the album Counterpoint (2002, 5:59).
I was raised Anglican (Episcopalian) with a healthy dose of New Age thrown in, so the ideas drawn from my religious tenets is a rather sorry amalgam. But I believe in an after life with all my heart, because of what I’ve seen in my work. I work for hospice..I see people dying almost everyday, sometimes peacefully, sometimes not so much. But I have also seen glorious things…unexplainable things..that lead me to believe that there is something after this life. I have seen flowers bloom after a mother’s death from a plant that had been barren for years. I have heard the person’s last words be “Oh how beautiful” as their face lights up with wonder at what only their eyes are seeing. I know that scientists would tell me that those episodes are just botanical or neurological flukes…but I don’t believe that. There is something beyond us..and its a good place.
Me? I lean towards the when its over its over as does my spouse. He was a Nurse for 30 years specializing in long term oncology care. (people dying of cancer). A more compassionate person you may never meet. And he has spent his life dealing with death and yet his oversized highly educated brain has exactly the same thoughts on death as my uneducated pea brain. Enjoy life now because when its over…Its over.
Your body will get recycled into the earth and your energy will get recycled into the universe. But you are gone
I’ve always liked the Jacobs Ladder idea, myself. Purgatory, Hell, and Heven are objects of our subconcious, as we spiral through death’s door. Once you have accepted your sins, and processed the pain of those sins, your conciousness is able to be released.
If you did the processing honestly in life, or were truely good, there was no barier to your conciousness’ ascension.
If you were unable to do so, there would be some pain on death, but it would only be as difficult as you made it. True self-reflection and honesty would be the most painful justice, but it’s swift for the true self-reflection.
The blindfold of sociopathism, dishonesty, and narcicism would be riped away eventually.
That, to me, answers a number of my (Catholic-based, Jesuit and Dominican) questions that I had growing up, about unbaptized babies, murderers, Tammy Fay and Jim Baker, and the weight of sins in the pantheon of “evil” in the teachings of the church.
Now, what the conciousness released to? I don’t try to answer that, but it’s all over the map in my mind. Some combination of Aristiotles Unmoved Mover, Aquinas’ God, Freudian Super Ego, and Reincarnation. Depends on the speed and results of the self-processing.