I’m still working on my book on death. It was intended to be a diary of my road towards death. Nothing much has happened on that side yet. Not much of a diary, eh? Never mind. It is proving to be a vehicle for me to ramble on about death. I’m finding that entertaining.
Life after death
Death makes you think about after-death. Is there life after death? I think not. Indeed, looking at the state of the world and lives of my fellow humans I wonder, in a lot of cases, if there is life before death.
Life after death presupposes some internal spirit/soul that resides in the living body, contains the essence of ‘us’, and, after death, leaves the body to go somewhere else.
For Hindus and Buddhists this spirit is reincarnated to reside in the body of another human or animal. Spiritualists believe this too. They believe you keep coming back to live different lives in order to learn lessons and progress (not sure what the endpoint of this progression is – similar to Buddhist nirvana I imagine). For most other religions the spirit heads off on a journey, crossing rivers with ferrymen or working through circles of hell, or simply wandering around lost, until they are guided or find their way into some promised land. In some religions you earn the right of instant passage and wake up in Paradise, with all its cooling fountains and 24 virgins, or Valhalla with its laden tables, flowing lager and winsome wenches. The Egyptians believed that you entered the underworld of Duat where you were given various challenges in order to achieve eternal life.
This idea of a journey and challenges in the afterlife is fairly common. In Vietnam and China I attended various packed ceremonies in temples to celebrate ancestors. They venerated their ancestors. To help their ancestors on their journey in the afterlife and make things easier they provided them with the things that might come in handy. Whereas the Celts and Egyptians provided weapons, food and female companions (they sometimes killed attendants and placed them in the tomb to bring ‘comfort’ to the dead chieftains), the Chinese and Vietnamese provided all the comforts that modern technology could bring. These were symbolised. There were market stalls full of paper images. You could purchase large cars, TVs, hairdryers, scooters – any and every gadget under the sun. You took them to the temple and burnt them in a specially constructed kiln/shrine. The smoke of the objects wafted up to the heavens where, amazingly, it was reconstituted as the real thing so that your ancestors could drive around and watch TV in luxury as they wended their way through the world that comes next. I found this hilarious. I had a picture in my head of my dead relatives driving around in a place called heaven and popping off ‘home’ to their house in the sky to catch some drama or soap – probably ‘Trouble In Paradise’ or some such. This afterlife seems to be indistinguishable from our present life. Strange that.
There’s no accounting for what people choose to believe. All these descriptions of worlds after death seem equally weird to me. There’s also no shortage of people ready to exploit these beliefs for profit (power or wealth). I was amazed to find the Vietnamese temples having cages crammed with terrified small birds and pots crammed with baby turtles or fish. For a sum you could gain good Karma by paying for the release of these creatures. That seemed a tad strange to me. What about all the bad Karma of placing the poor creatures in these conditions in the first place? That was brushed over.
Conversely the afterlife is not so good for all the non-believers or those that have strayed off the path and not obeyed the rules (the elaborate rules include, according to your brand, the eating fish on Friday, consuming a pork sausage or beef pie, working on Friday, Saturday or Sunday, masturbating, killing, eating non-kosher, eating seafood, having sex before marriage, possessing a foreskin, or not wearing the right hat, veil or robes, not praying enough or attending ceremonies, performing prayers or rituals, penances). Diet, clothes, austerity and sex are very big in religions. They all have different rules and regulations, requirements and penances that enable them to stand out and be recognised. It’s cultural. It is intended to identify and divide. The ‘real’ believers can be separated from the heathen other believers. True disciples demonstrate their allegiance and strength of belief by their strict adherence to the rules and extra commitment. This will, we are assured, pay off in the afterlife.
Of course, the rules can be circumvented. Thou shalt not kill can quickly turn into ‘your god demands that you should kill in his name’. Then it is OK to smash babies’ brains out, blow up whole rooms of innocent partygoers, fly plane-loads of kids into buildings, indiscriminately bomb and stone or burn people alive for public entertainment. It is justified to torture people horrendously to force confessions so that their souls can be saved. The sexual rules are also very strict unless it comes to Popes, like the Borgias, and young boys and sheep, or priests and altar boys. As long as you do it all in God’s name, against the right people (the others) and repent of your sins. So as long as Hitler confessed to his sins he has a place in heaven. Whereas a young road accident victim who was killed at a tender age, had recently masturbated and not had time to confess and ask for absolution, is doomed to everlasting torment from the god that loves them. Rules is rules. It’s more than me job’s worth.
So life after death is not so hot for the ones who made the wrong choices or broke the rules. They can look forward to everlasting agony. That seems a trifle harsh to me.
But all that is only if you choose to believe in souls and spirits. I don’t. I don’t think I have a soul. No spirit will flee my dead body to roam around as a ghost, waft up to heaven or drop down to hell. There will be no virgins, fountains, lager, wenches or singing in celestial choirs for me. I am the pattern of electricity in my neural network. Nothing more. When it ceases to zing around in my head I shall no longer exist. For me death will be like it was before I was born; what it is like in a dreamless sleep. No pain, no regrets, no pleasures, no fears, no ambitions, no nothing.
I’m not looking forward to death but I accept it as inevitable. Somehow, knowing that it is looming makes life all the more precious. Every second counts. Death, with its endless nothingness, makes life all the more precious, makes this universe all the more wonderful, magnificent and spectacular. For me, every waking minute is a miracle. I do not need to create fanciful futures of heavens, hells and karma with its reincarnation, no matter how psychologically pleasing they might be. I am reconciled. Life is super precious. Until my death I shall enjoy it to the very maximum. I shall enjoy every aspect of the magnificence of the universe I woke into and take pleasure in all the range of wonders nature and human creativity have to offer. Life is my smorgasbord.
I shall also enjoy the rich variations in costume and ritual from cultures all over the world. I shall greatly enjoy not having to be a slave to any set of rules, rituals or gospels.
In my view death has greatly enriched our cultures! Long live death!
