Friday, June 1, 2012

I NEED To Know

As I read God Is Not Great, it sets my mind to churning along lines it has churned many times before. Hitchens offers many compelling arguments that reduce major religious texts to silliness, and expose religious fanaticism for the violent, close minded thing that it is.
But I need something. I yearn for something.
I do not want to believe that when I die I am gone. That that's it; no life after death, no form of eternal existence, no second shot. I have not done enough with this life yet, and if it ends in the next 25 years with nothing but nothingness beyond, I will be disappointed. I just won't know I'm disappointed.
I tell myself I can believe that my soul will live on in some form in some non-religious realm, but I am selfish enough to want to be aware when this happens. If there is no Joe-awareness to my soul's existence, then what is the point? When I shuffle off this mortal coil I want to be aware that I am now eternal, ethereal, renewed and invigorated.
I literally long to know this. My mind strains to understand or to get an answer or a sign. I suppose most people are like this. Except people who watch Fox TV or believe that reality TV is actually reality.
I want my parents to communicate with me from beyond the grave and explain it all, but they would probably take the opportunity to tell me to cut my hair and be more responsible.
I have many rituals that I perform on my commute to work. Waving to a dog who doesn't know me. Saluting the House of Lights (I'm not going to explain). These odd things that I do set me apart from the normals and I need that.
I pass a cemetery at the top of a hill and I always raise my right hand in a questioning gesture, effectively saying "Come on, you guys have the answer, why won't you share it with me?" It pisses me off that they have gone to the trouble of dying and insist on keeping The Answer to themselves.
There is a house directly across the street facing the cemetery. I wonder if these people appreciate that? Maybe not. I would. Graves fascinate me, they do not disturb me. I would pop over there from time to time with a tumbler of whiskey and talk to these people. I have done it before in other cemeteries.
There is a grave digger out there sporting a shovel with my name on it. When I meet him I want to know exactly what is going on. But that's not going to happen, is it?
Multiple billions of people have died since the origins of humanity and not one of them has been able to explain it all to us.
I find that maddening. It suggests that there is nothingness beyond the grave. Wouldn't a loved one want to reassure you everything will be alright when you die? Give you the peace of mind to make it through this life armed with the knowledge that better times are coming?
Maybe it's too difficult to explain. I can find some peace in that.
I don't know what the hell I'm going to do. Greater minds than mine (and there are many) have wrestled with this concept and come up empty handed.
In the meantime I am going to take Warren Zevon's advice. Cancer killed him. It took time and he died publicly, with strength, grace and a sense of humor. He recorded his last album when he was quite weak, but he got it done and there are songs on there that bring tears.
David Letterman was a buddy of his. When Warren appeared for the last time on Letterman, the entire show was devoted to him.
YouTube it. It's worth it.
Zevon had been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, was not looking so good, and still he was cracking jokes. Amazing. The 20 year friendship between Letterman and Zevon was evident in the frank and open discussion of his disease and his life.
Letterman asked him "From your perspective, is there something you know about life and death that I don't?"
Zevon said "Enjoy every sandwich."
I'm gonna go with that as I continue to try to unravel this mystery.
It is excellent advice.

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