Life. Death. Life After Death.

[quicksand]

Many people across the theological spectrum believe that when they die that their consciousness, or soul - the intangibles which make them tick, will be reunited with their bodies at some later date. Whether that body is a physical body, or an "astral-body" (a "spiritual" projection of a physical body), the soul will have a new vehicle after death to animate it.

 

A life after this life. A life that will never end. A life without pain. A life without trial. A life where you'll only make good decisions because there will be no bad stuff to corrupt you otherwise. A place where the soul shall never become permanently extinguished and will survive incorruptible through one eternity to the next.

 

It is the afterlife, of course.

 

Christianity posits such an afterlife, provided you believe the right things. If you don't believe the right things, you'll suffer an eternity in another, less happier address. A place to be tortured by fire for eternity - all by a loving God alleged to be omnibenevolent – the infinite expression of goodness and benevolence. Yet Hell, so egregiously inhumane, that many Christians I know, do not even wish the unbeliever in, despite their belief and tacit approval of this policy by a god they worship who exhibits less humanity, less love, than them.

 

My grandma died on Friday, December 5th, 2008. She lived a long, long life well into her late eighties and is survived by 9 surviving children, countless grandchildren and great grand-children.

 

Today is her funeral.

 

While my grandma did not have much material or financial wealth when she died, she had a very successful life. The very fact that she had a natural death is a success in itself, if you stop to consider the fecundity of life and the fecundity of death which unremittingly governs us all. You are more likely to die due to lack of resources, or succumb to disease or senility. Life is inherently hostile to itself. A life, or universe, that has "precisely the properties we should expect if these is, at bottom no design, no purpose, no evil no good, nothing but pitiless indifference."

 

My wife's mother was not so lucky to live into old age. My wife's mother died of cancer in her early forties. Even worse, my wife's brother died when he was just barely an adult - and frankly this makes me angry. I'll never get to meet them, or know them. They will never be able to take apart of our lives, nor I them, and get to form friendships and bonds with my side of the family.

 

I am happy and proud of my grandma. To the very end she was full of humor and verve, even though these last few years she was sometimes grouchy and difficult to deal with.

 

In short, her life is to be celebrated. And today I will celebrate the contributions she made to my life and to the great-grandchildren she raised as her own with unswerving dedication and unrelenting love.

 

As many of you know, I am an atheist. I have not been convinced of the supernatural, and as a logical consequence, the afterlife I do not believe in. I will never see my grandma again. She will never see me again. This is why her commitment she made to her great-grandchildren I find that much more admirable. It was the meaning she brought to her life.

 

The "meaning of life" is no great secret to those that don't seek it in ancient texts and moral codes of less civilized men and from less civilized societies. You bring meaning to life by living it. Hopefully, you'll do it by minimizing your impact on it and have fostered a better world to live in after you've occupied it, like my grandma.

 

I've heard the afterlife described as a never ending baseball game. Imagine a game with one inning after another for eternity. A never-ending groundhog's day of sport. Three up. Three down. Forever. Sisyphus at bat for eternity.

 

That's not much of an existence I'd want to be assigned to forever and ever.

 

The very fact that life ends makes it crucial and urgent. Ann Druyan, Carl Sagan's wife, stated about her husband that they lived "with a vivid appreciation of how brief and precious life is" and that they "never trivialized the meaning of death by pretending it was anything other than a final parting. Every single moment that we were alive and we were together was miraculous-not miraculous in the sense of inexplicable or supernatural. We knew we were beneficiaries of chance. . . . That pure chance could be so generous and so kind. . . ."

 

That's is why a afterlife beliefs only devalues the only life we have. In some cases, like the 9/11 bombers, the afterlife motivates people to do terrible, terrible things.

 

Life is like those nine, crucial innings of America's favorite past-time.

 

There is no afterlife. There is no scientific evidence and there are no philosophical arguments which make the survival of one's consciousness possible.

 

Draw your loved ones close. Realize this is the only time you have. Make every day crucial and urgent.

 

You've got nine innings, and if the game is tied or not at the close of the nineth, it is still all you'll get.

 

I love you Grandma Rische.

 

Goodbye and thanks!

[florduh]

That was a nice sendoff for Grandma. Sorry for your loss.

 

This part of your post was profound, in my opinion:

 

"The "meaning of life" is no great secret to those that don't seek it in ancient texts and moral codes of less civilized men and from less civilized societies. You bring meaning to life by living it."

 

A simple truth, plainly stated. Thank you.

[Unknowing1]

I think your grandmother would be honored by what you have written as well as your celebration of the contributions that she has made in your life. My condolences to you and your family.

[Paladin]

Quicksand, you said "Draw your loved ones close. Realize this is the only time you have. Make every day crucial and urgent.

 

You've got nine innings, and if the game is tied or not at the close of the nineth, it is still all you'll get."

 

Thanks!

Peace

Paladin!

[Guest rtgalileo]

Thanks for the inspiring post. In particular:

 

The very fact that life ends makes it crucial and urgent. Ann Druyan, Carl Sagan's wife, stated about her husband that they lived "with a vivid appreciation of how brief and precious life is" and that they "never trivialized the meaning of death by pretending it was anything other than a final parting. Every single moment that we were alive and we were together was miraculous-not miraculous in the sense of inexplicable or supernatural. We knew we were beneficiaries of chance. . . . That pure chance could be so generous and so kind. . . ."