Life and then Death

This blog is about life and death and the plausible nature of After-Death Communication. Naturally, the nature of life-to-death transition is a topic that can and should be explored. Especially since this transition is central to the topic of communication between those who've made that transition and those who have yet to make it.

A friend of mine once asked me to describe what life and death are all about, and to be really blunt about it. I told him that I'd think about it and see if I could figure out a way to detail it in a way that wasn't technical. After a few days, I came up with the following vignette. In this little scene, my friend is the protagonist and I'm the guide. Of course, I took a small liberty here and created my own character as someone who's not from our own planet, and who's been in the afterlife for quite some time.

My point was to help my friend understand just how complex the human being is and how varied the experience of death and afterlife can be in spite of how uniform and grindingly mundane the truth, concerning the actual process of life and the transition from life to death, is. After reading the following, he never asked me for any further information. I am not sure whether that was a good sign or a bad sign.

The scene is one of quiet anticipation. Row after row after row of similarly clad figures seated motionlessly with eyes fixed forward in rapt devotion to a point that sits maybe a foot or so directly in front of each expressionless face. The room, or open field, or lack of any setting whatsoever is supplied by you, as are the colors, shapes, sizes and whatever else it takes to fill in the details as you wander through what seems to stretch on forever before you. Wherever this is, it's a central location. Whatever it is, it's central to what it ultimately means to be human.

Suddenly you notice a slight stir nearby. One of the frozen forms is wobbling just the smallest bit, and while it's subtle, in contrast with a lack of any motion whatsoever, this wobble stands out. After a brief pause, the figure wobbles yet again, only this time its wobble persists. Something's definitely happening here.

As the figure's movements build in variety and intensity, its eyes seem to lose their focus. That point of dedicated pursuit is now on the move, careening wildly at times with no discernible pattern, only to then fix intelligently once again. And yet, not at all connecting with any of what your own eyes have been engaged in since finding yourself in this odd waiting room.

Suddenly, it begins to speak.

"Where am I? Who are you?"

You look around. It's not talking to you, and yet in your own perception of what exists before you, you're the only one it could be talking to. With countless hypnotized drones, lined out in rows that seem to go on forever, you're the only person available to respond.

". . . but, I thought . . ."

As expression seeps into its face, you can finally connect with it as human. Just as human as you are. It's as if it's becoming human right before your very eyes.

". . . but . . ."

It's talking with someone. Someone that only it . . . only he . . . can see.

"I honestly had no idea. I guess I just figured that . . ."

A troubled look replaces the deadened stare that the rest of those present share amongst themselves. This drone is definitely coming alive. A voice appears just behind you and to your left.

"We should give him some privacy. This may prove to be difficult."

It's the area monitor who let you in for a look around. He's got the same troubled look on his face.

"What's going on here? I thought that . . ."

"What . . . that transition is a joyful reunion? Loved ones and all that gathered around? It can be. Doesn't have to be, but it can be."

"He seemed to be pretty upset."

You're not in that waiting room anymore. You're not much of anywhere anymore. The sudden evaporation of setting takes your breath away. Now, you're the one becoming upset.

"Look around you. Around you, inside you, anywhere at all. Do your best to perceive what you can and tell me what you've got that's real and tangible."

Try as you might, there's nothing. Not even a there to place that nothing within. It's gone. You're gone. That voice returns to provide you with the lone point of reference after what could've been an instant . . . or forever . . . for all you'd be able to discern.

"This is what's objective and real. Just you and whatever you're capable of perceiving. I temporarily blunted your capacity for perception translation to demonstrate how vulnerable you really are to what you can be convinced of as being real. This isn't like back on Earth. For better or worse, you're the one in charge of what exists here. At least as it all affects you."

You're suddenly back with your guide. The room - or whatever it was – is gone, but at least you're somewhere. You're something again. There's you and everything that isn't you, and that's definitely an improvement.

"But, that guy . . .  All those others. What was that . . . ?"

"You were once with them. We all were at one point."

"I don't remember ever . . ."

"Of course not. Didn't I just show you what it's like to be objectively real here?"

The endless, formless void of subjectivity – trapped within a strict objective reality – twitches back into your realm of perception and you blanch.

"Your capacity for conscious self awareness is a blessing, but it can be a curse. What's real is real, but the human mind exists within its own version of reality once its authoring brain has been discarded. That reality can only be what the mind allows it to be; what it's already translated as acceptable reality. Your mind could never perceive itself coming into being. It was fully engaged in its own physical gestation. So why would you have any memory of being part of what you just witnessed?"

"That was it? That was what life is all about?"

"You asked to know . . . to see what life is all about, so I showed you."

"It was a room of hypnotized people."

"Well, that's how you translated it. That's what made sense to you. I have never seen a room, but I'm not from where you're from. I guess that on Earth, the humans have rooms."

"What did you see?"

"It's not important. I've been here too long to have any perceptions that you'd be able to relate to. Besides, that's not the point. The point is that life is a gestational phase of human development. You physically exist as a result of what happened while you were being created by that brain that had its own span of physical existence on that planet of yours. I told you that I'd be honest with you about the meaning of life, and that's what I'm doing. No poetry. No philosophy. Just the bottom line and as plain as I can make it."

"And that's it?"

"That's it."

"So why did that guy seem so upset? What was going wrong there?"

"Nothing was going wrong. Nothing goes wrong. A person just wakes up from the focus on what's happening to the brain as soon as that brain dies. He . . . well, he died . . .  I guess you would have to say that he died. You watched him die. From this point of perspective it's a different kind of event. Nowhere near as dramatic. A person just wakes up."

"So who was he talking to?"

"Oh, I don't know. Each of them wakes up to someone different. I can't see what they see. No one can see what anyone else here sees. There aren't any objective reality anchors here. We all see what we are capable of seeing. What we've learned to be capable of seeing. Life is where we learn about what's real. That's the difference between here and the material realm. The material realm is objectively real. The eternal realm isn't. I mean, it is, but not for us. It's complicated."

"So, was he talking to himself?"

"No . . . someone was there."

"I didn't see anyone."

"You weren't being approached. He was."

Suddenly you can imagine the existence of hordes of beings. All kinds of versions of human, nonhuman, anti-human; just beasts of every description, and all of them moving in slowly on you. You scream as it all dissolves around you. Your guide is smiling as you whip around.

"Like I said, it's complicated."

"Is that what was approaching him?"

The thought of it sends a rush through you. No one should ever have to deal with confronting such a nightmare.

"It depends."

"It depends? Depends on what?"

"Depends on what he was expecting."

"But he didn't seem to know what was happening. He definitely didn't know who he was talking to."

Your guide frowns. His eyes focused just beyond where the two of you stand.

"That's too bad. I hate when that happens."

"When what happens?"

"Most wake up with a basic idea of what to expect. That basic expectation presents them with an initial perception orientation, and others that share that orientation are immediately perceptible to them. The connections are pretty natural, and off they go to their community and their afterlife. Some don't have any expectation at all. They never expected to survive death. They can end up pretty vulnerable to whomever it is that notices that they just woke up.

"It can go well, or it can go pretty badly. Depends on who or what it is that's presented to orient them. Of course, it also depends on what possible expectations existed within the culture they grew up in. It's all about what's intellectually available to be leveraged by whoever is there to take advantage of that initial connection."

"So, there's no way to know who he was talking with?"

"How could there be? If you couldn't see who it was, how could anyone else?

"But, isn't there someone making sure that this sort of thing doesn't happen to people?"

"This is reality. There's no one in charge of what's real. What did they teach you people on Earth about the afterlife anyway?"

Now it's your turn to stare off into nowhere, as the many competing theologies and philosophies of Earth's humankind collect and dissolve as the bewildering cacophony they presented throughout your own life. You realize that you have no real answer.

"It's . . . uh . . . it's complicated,"

You picture what can only be seen as a literal feeding frenzy of raw opportunity; millions of materialists and rigid reductionists each being individually presented with the impossible fact that they survived death.

"What would you see if you never expected to exist at all?"

Your guide pauses a moment.

"I would imagine that it would be supplied to you by whomever gets to you first. Let's hope it's something good."