Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about death. My own, of course. If you spend much time thinking about anyone’s death other than your own, I would suggest you think about something else. Nothing is, or ever will be, more personal than your own death. What comes afterward? Is there such thing as a life after death?
Maybe you just go dark; knowing nothing. Like dreamless sleep, I guess. A lot of my friends say that is what they expect.
But that is as hard to imagine as it’s opposite, where we spend the rest of eternity in either Heaven or Hell. There is an alternative view in which reincarnation fills the time. I have no idea how that scenario deals with climate change and the possibility of uninhabitability on this planet.
The whole thing is a mystery. I have no idea what reality is really about. There is, apparently, no way to know. Except wait until after death. No wonder that we so vigorously try to stay alive. As long as we are alive, we know it.
Or maybe we only think we do.
Like I said, I know nothing about reality.
I guess the “just go dark” scenario makes most sense. But who is to say sense has anything to do with it? You can believe whatever you wish, I suppose. As far as that goes, you can believe whomever you wish. As far as I can see, no living human knows any better than I. And–have I mentioned this before?–I know nothing.
Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to believe.