I’ve been getting a lot of letters lately asking more or less this same question, so thought I’d try to answer them all at once.
The short answer is that you probably needn’t ask yourself this question. As with so many of us, you are aware that you exist; and perhaps you’ve sometimes wondered if you really should exist, or if it might be easier not to exist. Near as I can tell, not existing isn’t an option – even if you exit your physical body, “you” will continue to exist. The details are a bit foggy, but it seems fairly clear that there will always be a “you” existing somewhere. So my best advice would be to try to get used to existing.
Some of you have further asked, Isn’t there a way to stop existing? There may be, but again, I’m not sure that’s the question you need to be asking. All things considered, existing as a human being is pretty amazing – some might even call it an honor. The fact that you’re even thinking about “not being” suggests that you haven’t fully considered the upsides to this unique and privileged situation.
I realize there comes a time for every human body when it’s so broken or worn that it’s no longer habitable. We then move out, but apparently continue on with our lives somewhere else. This is, in my opinion, a rather important point; and it concerns me that so many rational people steadfastly maintain, even in the face of substantial contrary evidence, that with the death of the human body, a human being ceases to be. I understand the reasoning, but will try to suggest some other ways to look at this.
First, it should be acknowledged that many people who don’t believe in an “afterlife” are expressing a general revulsion towards religions which claim to know what happens to a person after they die. They sense or deduce that these religions are basically making things up, and that the cleanest solution is to disbelieve everything these religions teach. There are also worldly power struggles involved: these religions gain strength when people believe in their teachings, so questions about their truth or falsity become politically and emotionally charged. These questions become cause for battle – literal battle – and in such an atmosphere it’s difficult to have a nuanced discussion about what anybody actually knows about the afterlife.
And then there’s the question of evolution. I love evolution – everybody loves evolution! But are we really just an eddy in the stream of universal entropy? Is it possible that other things are going on as well? Is it possible that we’re something more than artificial intelligence?
Many thoughtful, intelligent people have concluded that we’re not – and that ideas of an afterlife are irrational delusions inspired by an abject fear of death. And they may well be; but still, it seems equally implausible to imagine that we are essentially replicants.
Having been raised an atheist, I was introduced to the apparent reality of the afterlife not through any religious teachings, but through personal experience. But these experiences are generally unpredictable and fleeting, and raise far more questions than they answer. My adult life has been dedicated to answering these questions, and here’s what I’ve concluded: Nobody knows. Nobody around here, anyway. On the other side of the veil, there’s apparently plenty of knowledge – infinite knowledge, perhaps – but over here, not so much. And this seems to be by design.
It seems that there are some immensely wise and powerful entities in what is sometimes dismissively called the “spirit world”, but their power is usually matched by their humility, and most “spirits” show no desire to advertise their presence, or to micromanage. In their relationship with we mortals, they might be imagined as parents watching their toddlers in a playground, except that the help they offer is largely limited to thoughts and words, which we often choose to ignore. They mostly leave us to our devices, letting us fumble through this life, learning lessons with every mistake – those lessons apparently being, from their point of view, what actually matter.
And when it comes to questions about the afterlife, we seem to hit a brick wall. Purported descriptions of the afterlife are so conflicting, subjective, and mixed with metaphor as to be nearly useless. From our perspective, this apparent withholding of information might seem positively unfair, but I think that, from the spirit world point of view, it makes perfect sense.
Imagine you’re a mother hen, sitting on your eggs, and your unborn chicks start asking you questions: What am I doing here? Why do I have a beak and wings and legs? What’s the meaning of egg life? What is on the other side of this shell?
How would the hen respond? With gentle but vague reassurances, mostly. And this is mostly what we get when we pose questions to our friends in the spirit world. Their main message seems to be, “We exist, and we love you.” It took me a long time to realize: right now, that’s all you need to know. We, the unhatched chicks, have neither the capacity nor the need to understand what awaits us on the other side of that shell.
I’m referring here to authentic, garden-variety spirit communication, which is common and egalitarian, not the exclusive province of prophets or saints. There are a number of gifted mediums in the world today, demonstrating as best they can that the afterlife indeed exists. Unfortunately the entire mediumship “profession” is so crowded with wannabes that it’s sometimes hard to spot authenticity. More unfortunately, even genuine mediums are often inclined to inflate their talents, as they try to earn a living in a competitive field. (message to mediums: don’t try to do it for money.) And most unfortunately, formal research on mediumship has been scant, hobbled by a lack of both funding and sufficiently intrepid scientists.
Research on this topic is problematic, though, because real mediumship doesn’t work best in the vacuum of a test lab – it occurs most reliably in the real world, accompanied by real feelings and things we care about. In other words, accompanied by all kinds of bias. But as I understand it, we all communicate with “spirits” regularly, whether we’re aware of it or not, and can, with diligent observation, witness thoughts in our head that seem to have originated elsewhere.
For example, I was once motorcycling on a winding road, going maybe a bit over the speed limit, when I heard a commanding voice in my head: “Slow Down”, just before coming around a bend to find a large truck blocking the road. I didn’t need a control group to realize that this voice had perhaps saved my life.
While more scientific research would be useful, I don’t require a winning lottery number, delivered in a laboratory setting, as proof of spirit communication. In my experience, the information in these communications is not explainable as fakery (obviously), nor as psychosis (at least not entirely). While I’m obviously susceptible to the standard human biases, the information often proves to be objectively, and sometimes dramatically, true and accurate. Though many can attest to spirit influences that seem anything but helpful, most of my communications are beneficial and welcomed – simple insights or guidances, delivered in a timely manner. I’ve in fact come to rely on them.
Then there’s another kind of spirit communication – the “revelations” that underpin spiritual movements and religions, filled with authoritative information about everything. I think people are wise to be suspicious of everything these religions teach. People look to religions for answers, and religions have a vested interest in providing them; so, even if their sources are flawed, even if their stories lack plausibility, these institutions will go to great lengths to defend their claimed knowledge.
In the face of such pretension, it’s not surprising that freethinking individuals conclude that the whole realm of religion is a sham: We’re just some over-evolved animals, who somehow became self-aware, but are nonetheless destined to perish, the same as a cockroach. God is a somewhat comforting fantasy, and concepts of heaven and hell are mere myths – or worse, tools of manipulation wielded by the church. This, it seems, is the default stance of the modern enlightened human.
For many people, it’s necessary to take a large step away from organized religion in order to properly consider these topics. Begin with the assumption that no one knows squat. Do scientists know? Certainly not – they’ve gotten to the point where they realize this universe is a highly calibrated device, but have no idea who or what did the calibrating. They’re in the process of learning how very much they don’t know.
We (at least most of us) don’t even know what consciousness is, or why it resides in us in such concentrated fashion. We don’t know where instincts and memory are stored. We don’t know the purpose of the universe. We do know that 95% of the universe is made of something essentially invisible to us.
Still, rational people are reluctant to even inquire about a so-called spirit world, the entire subject so colored by the teachings of organized religion that grant proposals don’t even get written. It’s Academia vs. Religion – battle lines drawn, defenses on high alert. But this strange thing we call consciousness urges us on: Who am I? What am I doing here? Inquiring minds want to know.
Such minds also wonder why life is so hard, if there’s a loving God somewhere who cares about us so much. Again, from the mother hen’s point of view, things might look different. For reasons easy enough to imagine, our creator wants us to spend a brief moment experiencing challenges, adversity, and unique possibility here in our little incubator Earth. I think of it as a kind of character-building summer camp (or maybe boot camp), but with the built-in assurance that none of our injuries here are permanent. It’s also inescapably true that these challenges are, ironically, what make life worth living: a world with no possibility of failure would be deadly boring.
It must also be mentioned that most of our adversity here is self-inflicted. In our explorations of free will, we so often choose to learn our lessons the hard way. Our time on earth could be far more pleasant, if we collectively dedicated ourselves to making it so.
This, in fact, points to what may be the central purpose for our sojourn on earth. We unhatched chicks are not alone in our shells – we spend our time on earth interacting with other “embryos”, sometimes in joy, often in strife. Like in some clever videogame, we’re constantly being presented with challenges that can only be solved by collaboration and cooperation – by families and communities. When we’re told to “love one another”, this isn’t just to make God happy.
So, after decades of inquiry into the Meaning of Life, my brief answer is “Food, Clothing, and Shelter”. And my brief answer to questions about the hereafter is “Don’t worry – everything will be fine”. We’re here in the middle of this videogame-simulation-maya-incubator, and the rules are simple and obvious: survive, flourish, prosper – and love one another.
From all this it’s hopefully clear that a knowledge of the existence of the afterlife is crucial to our happiness and success here on earth. It places our time here in the perspective of what may be an eternity of existence, and renders many of our struggles and dramas inconsequential. But it does this without rendering our lives meaningless. Everything you do here is important, but perhaps not for the reasons you think. There’s no real winning or losing here, because this is all very temporary. When you finally hatch from your shell, you’ll take nothing of that shell with you; in fact, none of it will even interest you anymore.
But all of that is for the future. Right now, we’re to live our lives with a simple intent: never stop learning, never stop growing. There’s purpose in all this effort, and the rewards will be reaped both here and in the hereafter. So, basically, be here now. And be all you can be. And trust that whatever will be will be.
.
.
.
.