I’m busy writing my book on death – The Death Diaries. I’m enjoying it!
- The final frontier.
Death is the final frontier.
Bollocks.
Death is the end. There is no frontier. A frontier implies that there’s something on the other side.
There is nothing after death – at least nothing we can be at all certain of. That is what terrifies us. Everything we hold dear; our minds, our lives, our family, friends, possessions, likes and dislikes, and the whole damn universe blinks out of existence for ever.
That is so sinister and final that we invent religions in order to avoid having to deal with it.
We can’t bear the thought that we will cease to exist; that the universe will go on without us, that there is no plan, no purpose, no reason.
All life, the universe and everything is all an accident. Infinity gives plenty of scope for an infinite number of totally improbable accidents – given enough time, space and chemistry. That’s what I believe. I’m an accident.
I am a firm believer in accidents.
I am not a believer in gods, angels, heavens, hells, satan or fairies. I believe them to be products of fevered minds struggling to come to terms with reality.
I believe life happened by chance; it evolved.
I believe consciousness is merely a survival mechanism.
I’m not sure how the universe blinked into existence through some Big Bang but I feel no need to invent another mystery in order to explain it. If god did it then where did god come from?
I believe in science, evolution and chance.
When I read creation myths like Adam and Eve they are farcical.
When I consider the notion that there is a heaven and we will meet up with dead friends and family to live forever in some paradise, that is beyond farcical; that is absurd. They are all invented in order to deal with our neurosis about death. I don’t like pretence. I don’t like psychological games invented to fool ourselves into believing that we don’t really die. I view religions are human creations; attempts to explain the Big Bang and life and death. For me they explain nothing. They’re a sham. I prefer to marvel at the wonder of it. We are surrounded with the unknown. Religion doesn’t come near to explaining it. Science only gives us glimpses. Art and nature abound with it. I like to sit in the mystery with a sunset or fire to transport me into the contentment of wonder. Life, the universe and death are wondrous cycles to be absorbed into the psyche and relished. I reject all simple answers. We have life. We live in a spectacular universe. We die.
No, for me, death is final.
This life is all we have. I aim to live every second and make the most of it. There’s nothing more.
When my brain shuts down I will cease to exist forever.
Do I like that? No.
But I don’t want to create some ridiculous, fanciful story in order to shield me from the reality of the abyss of eternity. I can’t remember anything from before I was born. That’s because I didn’t exist.
That’s how death is.
This then is the story of my death.
