Maybe our universe has a big heart
Life’s awful randomness
I was just reading a story about a 61-year-old veteran paramedic getting randomly stabbed to death in the street in Queens, New York. Not far from retirement, she was alive…then…poof….she was gone. No warning, just completely erased. Unfair. Frightening. Inexplicable. There is no logical way to explain why some people get taken down in their prime, and others don’t.
Seems a benevolent universe would somehow account for random bloody horrors by rewarding the victims with everlasting life in some yet unknown form that somehow preserves our consciousness in some meaningful, everlasting way.
In other words, if someone murders you in cold blood, your revenge would actually be living well….in another form…in a different universe.
What about the murderer, shouldn’t they be excluded from this nirvana as a punishment for their crime?
The answer is…it doesn’t matter. When we die, we’ll no longer exist in a world of letters, sounds, words, gestures, and physical pleasure or pain of any kind…we’ll experience the “world” through nonverbal, nonbiological, nonlinear bursts of emotion, feelings, and unimaginable peace and euphoria.
We will have already left our bodies….what will survive is that little voice in our head that narrates our days, cheers us up when we’re down, and sometimes gets confused and corrupted by physical or mental illness or suffering. That inner voice, our true self, knows it exists in a form we can’t understand but can envision….and feel.
Many of us live wonderfully long lives on earth with minimal misery; others face insurmountable obstacles and, against all odds, survive, and ultimately thrive.
For the fortunate, heaven may simply be a continuation of their earthly existence — screened pools, grilled meats, fun restaurants, big-screen movies, friends, family, and some romance here and there. Oh….and an occasional corn beef and tongue sandwich, sliced thin, with a little Guldens.