I’m told I’m a spiritual type. This probably means people who care about me, want me to have a place in this world and in my afterlife.

It tells me, they are telling me it’s okay I don’t do Church, I don’t do bible study, I don’t confess in front of other people to prove my commitment.

It tells me, they accept the fact that in my own search in understanding the fragility of humankind, I found also the brutality of our species as well as the capability of our species to love and endure.

It tells me, they understand my search to decipher doctrines, oral history, myths, prejudices, hate, decimation of other civilizations in the name or guise of a religion.

You can’t blame the barbarism of a civilization of any age, collectively or singularly. As a species, we’re full of defects. History just shows our egotism won’t give in. We’d rather decimate than admit fallacy.

Who cares if the broken skull found in an urban alley is deemed a crime scene or an archaeological relic of historic preservation?

Who cares if the broken skulls in the Catacombs of Paris or the catacombs of Cambodia are evidence of a finality we as a species will all succumb to?

Does it matter if such demise is driven by religion, prejudice, or something else more insane?

I happen to believe and do things with care about human kind and animal kind. I happen to care and empathize with too many people, too many situations, too many if’s and but’s, too many emotions.

When they cry, I cry. When they laugh I laugh. I feel sorrow, I feel fear, I feel anxiety, I feel loneliness, I feel anger. I feel like a sponge sometimes, soaking up stuff until I’m brimming with carrying too many loads emulating from too many people.

When is it that you have a feeling that carrying too much is too much. When is it that you feel as though you’re running out of fuel, your tires are worn and going flat, your ride is bumpy, slow, over burdened?

How do you tell someone you’re dying?

It’s said animals know when they’re dying and so do people.

An encyclopedia could fill up volumes of opinions, study, research into this so I won’t pile it up here. After all, knowing when you are dying begins with yourself. It begins with your inner self first.

It begins with an inkling. It begins when your buzzer for your Extra Sensory Perception suddenly chimes and in a rare occasion you don’t apply any gauge of skepticism. Instead, it’s an Ohhhh moment!

It begins with a sense of wondering if there is any sense to immortality.

Is there any rationale to immortality?

It begins when we realize, recorded history speaks of immortality but no one really knows of our outcome relative to it. Some may profess to know, and for those who do not, how much do we pull hair because we don’t?

It’s easier to be sheepish and just believe because the flock follows. Why so? Because they’re told to!

Either the enlightened or the insane speak of immortality. How in hell do we really know?

In all honesty, for the rest of us who don’t know, it’s just easier to just follow what sounds good to us? We are ever so hopeful, we will have a place among the Olympians.

Just having faith doesn’t cut it. Are we so pompous to believe our own immortality is a given just because secretly we want it so badly? Do we regard such immortality as a secret reward or secret entitlement?

Do we ever wonder if such desire may be delusional, or insanity fueled by own our selfish reasons to grant ourselves immortality?

Have you ever asked anyone who believes in immortality what they plan to do after they die?

Have you ever asked anyone who believes in immortality what they plan to do after their body is either buried or cremated or just left out to dry in the woods or out to sea?

If general human consensus is any indication, what concerns most humans is what kind of funeral they’re going have, how they will look, what kind of food will be served. Mostly, it’s stuff oral history is made of. Beliefs of what was passed down through generations. Never questioned, mostly just followed through.

Does immortality begin or end with a gorgeous funeral?

Do those who profess their own immortality know for certain what happens in their afterlife, do they know for certain that they are deserving to serve their Master be it spiritual or religious, or cult?

From what I have been told, they really don’t if they’re rational. This is a glaring contrast to those who chime away that their immortality is their right because they are chosen, that they are special, and they have faith that they will rise above all others.

It’s not my intention to debate such things. I am just asking.

So what is immortality?

Immortality as defined is, “the ability to live forever, eternal life, everlasting life, e.g. “eating the fruit gave the gods immortality.”

By contrast, it is easy to realize, the origin of immortality is first in the perspective of gods.

“That the belief in immortality has been widespread through history is no proof of its truth. It may be a superstition that arose from dreams or other natural experiences. … Aristotle conceived of reason as eternal but did not defend personal immortality, as he thought the soul could not exist in a disembodied state.”


Is immortality a part of explaining to someone that you’re dying?

There are stages to dying. The physiological process during the natural course of dying is the same for all humans. The deprivation of food and water due to the human body’s inert need or lack of need for food and water is accelerated with time.

Beyond this, how each person regards his or her immortality is probably not at all the same, but nonetheless it’s not difficult to see that the progression of dying and death itself is simple. It is the living who can sometimes make it more complicated than we really ought to.

The night air is still. The winds have died. Just hours ago the summer heat felt like a furnace scorching the earth and every living thing. But now, the night has cooled to restful calm. The night clouds look beautiful, comforting, and reassuring. Can death be so calm beautiful, comforting and reassuring?

There is so much anguish in the elderly in a care home. I shudder to think there is worse anguish in the privacy of a person’s home without professional attention, or worse, the anguish of the homeless and destitute on the street or some lonely isolated place on earth.

Do the anguished aging or diseased person have an inkling that they are dying?

Do the anguished aging or diseased person care about immortality? Do they believe they are chosen to have immortal life?

Do the anguished aging or diseased person know for certain of their immortality?

I don’t know. I am afraid to ask out of decency and respect of those so anguished and diseased.

I don’t know if I would even ask an anguished aging or diseased person if they believe they will live forever?

In the care home, I once heard an aging woman, diseased and curled up in her bed succumbing to disease, utter softly, “Why does God keep me alive?”

She brought tears to my eyes.

All I could do was stand there and say quietly to myself, “I don’t know. I am so sorry. I don’t know.”

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