I never imagined more than a decade going by before sharing more with you here about my life since you went away. The thing that has affected me the most are my thoughts about your 20 years not only being all the time you had on earth, but also the entirety of your whole existence.
There is a comfort and peace provided like nothing else with notions that our beings continue on in unseen realms. The thing that speaks to me the loudest about that is my belief that no one living ever reaches an absolute moment when they're readied to die. The reason I believe that is because we each die to this world separately from one another.
Do the people that die together in plane crashes and such--the titanic, pass on together? It seems if God exists, those people would be standing around peering at each other outside the pearly gates, baffled at their circumstance while waiting to be allowed through as their names are confirmed. At once relieved from the excruciating experience of their body dying, now onto great anxiety and anticipation and for some a dreadful wait, learning if your fate is rather to return to an endless excruciating death experience if one's name is not found in the book.
The only other alternative to that is to imagine any other possibility or fade straight to black. So, we don't get to see our loved ones again? No one will ever see us again? I can partly accept that, if our lives continue on after our earthly terrestrial life is over. A completely different existence without any memory of our time on this beautifully tarnished earth with all of its mean heartless human inhabitants, ideally a better world--but what if it's not...
It could still be better than going back to black. Would it? I bet one couldn't find another to argue that they had it so bad before they were born. I myself kind of like how quickly time passed, especially then. I think it is even exciting to ponder dying and waking again millennia later with vague recollections of what life was like before. Makes keeping yourself alive sound so foolish in a sense, if, dying is the closest thing to time travel. Perhaps, dying is like dimensional travel, we each are like one of those dolls with tinier versions of itself inside, and dying as one version just brings ourselves into being with the other versions that compose our existence overall. If that's true sign me up. You mean to tell me that my dreams will become my next reality? That's if dreams are glimpses into the multiverse--which is the closest definition I cling to about the substance of dreams. So, in that sense we could live up to as long as biblical ages, into the 900s in terms of years. We would have to have no recollection of our past selves, or the life incurred. What then are the implications of what the earth is exactly, if some people are born and claim to remember living another life on earth prior? I know I wouldn't want to come back to live here again once I'm through, because once I'm through--I'm through, take me on to the new thing please, loved ones be damned. Of course, it would be great to carry on with them, but as long as the experience is as far removed from earth as possible, I can deal with forming new bonds.
I believe there must be some misunderstood truth about reincarnation. It's easy to believe that all the people who didn't live rightly, return here to live again. This world is something else, death is constant, and everything kills each other. I'd say yes, send all the bad people there to learn their lesson.
Just for kicks throw in a false God to maximize the losses. We'll create it as a mockery that touts love but incites hate, who orders all (tongue in cheek) not to kill, but to let vengeance be His. Then we'll make the inhabitants impatient beings to take God's wrath upon themselves to exact it at will, all in His name, so that even those believing to be righteous commit acts most foul. How is hell supposed to be worse? At least there the lines are clearly drawn. I'd rather live knowing, than live with the majority of unknowns.
My memory serves me as a torture device. Not so unlike the many. Such a wealth of horrifying subject matter to create molds from, all depending on the way a particular mind works.
My torture room is a cell. My recollections return me to it on the daily. So, of course the cell is inside my head, it's the way my mind works--the room must be getting bigger. It fills with evermore empty space. Memories don't serve their function the same once becoming remnants of times gone by. Which is what makes up the empty room--a lacking perspective. A store of silenced memories without half their voice. I gather myself with the musical chairs and begin my latest game of uno to reacquaint myself with the new player, I don't really mind when they don't remember--I know the feeling and the process well. If this existence is worse than hell, it's because the world is a place our memories exist to die, and life is a losing battle against that. So, heaven must be a place where our memories are preserved and kept alive without any effort on our part. This ultimately strikes me as too short-sighted to be true, because it can't answer for any being with such a horrid life experience to ever want to make memory of it. In many ways I too would want a better life to relive, if given the option of which memories to reserve (as much as I love the ones I have.)
Though, heaven this is not, hell on the other hand could be the very conception 'out of existence--out of mind,' like the perfect explanation as to why the struggle that is preserving history continues is, it's literally as if those metalheads come out of 'The Langoliers' to devour all that ever remained of our perception of existence from our reality so that it only exists in our mind and we continue to live without being aware of the erasure of that part of our memory conceived, making life going forward illusory. Another version of hell with a sci-fi twist is to keep your consciousness in your brain as the last element of your remaining humanity as you continue on, it encased atop a mobile unit of some sort, able to take in the environment around it, once your conscious awareness activates the camera and you assimilate the scene. Then as you lose interest once more and shutter ever longer you'll eventually blink out, while the mobile unit goes about on its own amongst other sleeping brained units all traversing their dystopian plain.
Sharing can't be all that it's cracked up to be, because what else is there to do with loss? If sharing is so valuable, sharing that should do something more than reinforce the emptiness.