What if we found out that all of this, this life, this planet, and everything that we think exists was all for nothing? Pointless, futile, meaningless. We want to believe that everything that we do serves a purpose because it helps us to get through the day, and eventually, through our lives. We want to believe that there is a God or Supreme Being that has a power over us because we don’t want the responsibility that comes with being in charge of our own lives and decisions. It’s God’s plan, His idea, His creation. But is it? Will we even find out the truth when we’re dead? Will we reach the end of whatever this is? Is there an end? A beginning? What are we doing and where, really, are we doing it? What happens after death? I can choose to live a dull life or I can choose to do crazy things and make an extra effort to draw attention, meet people, create exciting situations, art, theories, buildings, photos, videos, and stories to entertain others and validate my own life to myself. But why?
Is it because I expect a reward when I die? If I make it to the “End” of this life and convince myself that I lived a good, honest, productive and helpful existence on Earth, do I really believe that there will be some kind of prize or spiritual “promotion” upon death? The idea is absurd and sounds crazy, but I think that most people choose to believe in this idea of a reward from God or the Universe or whatever because that’s how we live our lives here in these bodies, these cities, these societies and cultures and countries. We do good, we get a prize; we’re given things of value. We do bad, we get punished or have things taken from us. So isn’t that how death is supposed to be too? Do we honestly believe that whatever happens after this life is going to be anything even similar to an earthly existence in a human form?
In my personal experience with out-of-body-consciousness, psychedelic trips, dreams, and what I still believe to be my own experience of death itself while on a heavy dose of mushrooms in 2004, existence beyond this dimension bears little resemblance to life on earth in a human body. So much so, that it’s almost impossible to describe what is felt or seen or experienced with words related to our experiences here. The very thought of comparison is ludicrous. The idea of God creating this from somewhere outside of our dimension on Earth is also silly. All of what we conceive of here in human form is essentially contained within . . . yup, you guessed it, HUMAN FORM. Jesus, God, Buddha, evolution, other dimensions . . . those are all elements of life on earth in a third dimensional consciousness from the standpoint of a human mind. Once one ventures beyond the dimension that contains those ideas, philosophies, and imagination of what happens after death, those thoughts and ideas are seen and understood as belonging to that dimension and created by the human brain that we use to perceive the world while living on earth. Much like a satellite used to receive a transmission for television or radio. That’s it. We also imagine breathing, talking, and “seeing” with “eyes” after death. Like existence outside of a human brain and body is still limited to the parameters of that body and dimension. It’s insane, really.
I’ve experienced the “departure” of the senses while fully conscious and awake. Not only the diminishing sounds of the world I live in, (as in volume) but the source of those sounds, the ears that I use to hear sounds with, and the very concept of sound, sight, touch or smell as being vibrations and stimuli passing through my brain and interpreted as such. I’ve witnessed “the reality” of what I know as being “real” losing reception like a TV channel slowly being disturbed by a storm or loss of signal. The picture loses quality, the sound becomes crackly like static, and eventually the picture and sounds that make up the show are gone; lost in the static and white noise. Then the white noise and static are also gone. What is left is the total absence of what I perceive as “reality” or the “show” that I’ve been watching my whole life. So what is that? Who was “I” if I was no longer “me”? It’s a difficult thing to grasp, but there was consciousness remaining that wasn’t tethered to my physical self or even my current personality. As “reality” came slowly back, it was much like the reverse of the previous description. Little by little, my senses were restored. Sight became clearer. Sounds individually began being heard. Things like birds outside, or the constant rush of traffic that normally we get used to and don’t even hear, the wind, the hum of electricity through power lines, the creaking of the boards and roof in my house. I could hear them reappearing and becoming real again after not existing. Furthermore, there materialized “things” with which I could see, “things” that I could hear, and reality as I have always known it, was restored.
It’s an illusion. After watching and feeling the world being taken apart piece by piece until no parts were left, I realized that the world, is nothing but another signal being received by the satellite of my human brain. Reality is no longer ever as real as it once was.
However . . . If it’s all meaningless and repetitive and a timeless illusion, then why are we doing it? Where does the illusion come from? The illusion of history, future, universes beyond universes with infinite possibilities…why so complex and endless, if it goes nowhere? I don’t want to be a nihilist. I hate the idea of an endless and meaningless existence. A bunch of blind mice running around without a clue as to why we are running instead of sleeping, eating instead of fighting, or working for something we don’t have the capacity to comprehend. A few of us wonder and question our existence even if we don’t or can’t understand it. I won’t accept things with faith. A belief without proof. Belief based on what? A book? The Holy Fucking Bible that billions of people believe in as being the truth? It’s a book. What really happened? Which came first, the chicken or the egg? The planets or the stars? The rain or the oceans?
My life seems to be without a purpose. I don’t help people, I don’t want children or a wife or a ladder-climbing career that sets me up for retirement. My existence doesn’t really matter. No one depends on me (other than the cats, of course) for anything and everyone would continue to exist in their own meaningless world without me around existing in mine. I take comfort in the idea of death. People say that “Life is short”….I disagree. I’m thirty-five years old and already I believe that life is too long. If I’m at the half-way point, that’s panic-worthy. What the fuck am I going to do with another thirty-five years? The pain gets worse, the depression gets worse, and eventually everyone that I know will disappear. Then I die and maybe find out what this is all for. Maybe. Or maybe it’s like that Stephen King short story, “Afterlife” where the guy dies and is given a choice to either enter a door that stops his existence and everything that goes along with it, or enter another door that goes back into the life that he just lived exactly the way he just lived it, except without the memory of anything. Over and over and over again. That, unfortunately, sounds the most like the actual outcome. Repetition. Like a movie left playing while the person leaves the house for days. It gets to the end and starts over and gets to the end again and stops. . . . only to begin again exactly like it did the last time and the time before it.
It’s aggravating, really. I want answers! I want some sort of explanation of why we have to deal with this shit without knowing why we are doing it. Billions of people moving around, consuming, building, killing, reproducing other people that will basically do the same thing we do. Why? Does it serve some ultimate goal? Will we ever get a straight answer or just the continued illusion of getting closer and closer while becoming more advanced and enlightened in the process? I want to sleep. I want a reprieve. I want the afterlife equivalent to a day at the beach. Whatever the fuck that entails. Beach death. Who’s in charge?
Have you heard of the Law of Attraction? Of course, you probably have. It’s the idea that by thinking about positive or negative thoughts and things, we bring those things and/or that energy to our lives. Once you break that down, and really think about what it means, the concept of reality comes into question. If I have a bad day and think negative thoughts while driving home from work, I might notice that more than the average number of cars are cutting me off and driving recklessly. It increases my negativity and I grow angrier. Then I think, “What the fuck else is going to happen ‘TO ME’ tonight?” So I go home and realize that the door on my mailbox is open and my mail is blowing around in the snow bank. That never happens but, of course it would happen today! It continues like that until my anger and negativity dissipates and I fall asleep hating my life.
Did I draw those details of reality into my existence simply by thinking, worrying, and dwelling on negative thoughts? Whether consciously or subconsciously, it seems to happen that way. Once we become aware of it, it’s next to impossible to ignore. But can we intentionally and consciously focus on the things we DO want out of life and materialize them as well? That always proves to be much harder to grasp for me.
So once again . . . HOW REAL IS REALITY? The idea that our brains are connected to the “external” world and the attributes of “separate” things leads me to believe that even our waking life and the “real world” isn’t much different than a lucid dream where we manifest the events and creations, the people and feelings, and the coincidences and synchronicities that we ultimately interpret as “our lives.” After waking up from a long, detailed dream that felt real while dreaming it, that reality quickly fades away. For me, the details go first. Then the sequence of events, and all I’m left with is a visual memory that becomes very hard to decipher or describe. I can see it in my mind’s eye, but it no longer seems important. After a while, it’s gone completely and I go on with my waking life as if the dream never happened. I’ve had dreams that were so real and so full of detail and emotion that in the few seconds after waking up, it feels more real and oftentimes more important and significant than the life I’ve been living. But I can’t hold on to it. I can attempt to write it down, to work out the details in a sort of story form, but I can’t keep anything. I still lose the attachments, the relationships, the battles, the memory within the memory, and am left with no choice but to disregard all of it, no matter how significant it feels in those few seconds and go on. One life ends and the other resumes. . . What if our deaths are the same? Our lives that we’re living are full of important things and we have memories, loved ones, friends, accomplishments, mistakes, and everything that we build during our time as ourselves in our bodies with our egos and personalities. And in the few seconds after death, it still feels real and important. . .but then fades away one detail after the next. But if you’re realizing that that your “life” is fading and losing importance, if you’re even having the thought of how devastating is to slowly lose attachment to the live that you thought was so real, then who are you in that moment?