A small piece of toast, side of apple butter and a cup of peach tea are my only breakfast companion this chilly winter New York morning. Looking outside the café window I see life in motion. Hello January! A brand new year is here! Some say it's our last. Others believe life will continue undisturbed.“Will there be anything else?” the waitress asks, inviting me to spiral further down the rabbit hole. I shake my head 'no' to other breakfast food, but will there, be, anything else?
My dad used to say: As many languages you speak, that many times you are a person. I am proud of my multilingual existence. Every few years I take on a new tongue. However, with the possibility of multiple dimensions, parallel worlds and reincarnation, that ‘existence’ infinitely multiplies! When Max Plank first kicked the idea of the string theory in motion, was he in pursuit of existential answers? Did Einstein ever waste his time thinking about death? Albie didn’t believe in wasting time. Einstein owned four identical suits to avoid time wasted thinking about what to wear each day. I wonder if Stephen Hawking thinks about life after death or if Michio Kaku believes in afterlife? Do any these brainiacs believe in God? Who among us hasn’t asked THE question at least once? French post-impressionist Gauguin went as far as painting his concerns in oil. Were do we come from? Who are we? What happens when we die?
The greatest poet of our time was also a phenomenal philosopher. In Hamlet’s famous soliloquy Shakespeare begins with: To be, or not to be. The bard questions life. Are we better off facing destiny, taking whatever cards we’re dealt or should we have courage enough to take matters into our own hands, thereby, calling it quits. Should we bid adieu to life? Should we rid ourselves of pain once and for all? For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come? Shakespeare asks. What happens when the soul separates from body? What are the mysterious twenty one grams that escape us when we finally 'shuffle off'? After all, tea spilling out from a broken cup is still tea, even soaked into a napkin, therefore, is the body nothing more than a shell? If this be true, who are we then? Are we the body or the mind?
What happened to the dead souls long before our time? Are they here? Are they above us? Beside us? Bellow? Are they watching over us? Are they the stars that come out every night? Is that where we come from? Is that where we go? Perhaps, we are stardust. 'There's the respect that makes calamity of so long life!' We must be cowards. IWhy do we live so long? We wait until our bodies give out; until we have no choice, but to pass. We would rather suffer inside our mortal shells afraid of the unknown, then embrace what comes! In the realm of the unknown, where we don't need a body, we do not suffer. Is suffering is the only way we know we’re alive? What if it is the only way we are aware of our existence?
I take the last sip of what is now a very cold and bitter cup of tea, hearing laughter inside my head. It is the proverbial tree in the forest laughing. We are all trees. Is it not true that without our senses we would not know of one another? If we couldn't see, taste, feel, hear or smell would we exist? Can it be concluded none of this is real? Can it be said that life is an illusion? What if life is a vibration of sounds, colors and impulses perceived by our brains? We only about 3%.
I think, therefore I am.
Clearly, without my body I can still hear my thoughts. I don't need ears to hear my thoughts. Why is it that I ignore my inside voice so often? Shouldn't I trust it? I am certain it knows me better than I know myself, but who am I? Am I that voice? Time is one. I believe all time is one. There is no before or after. There is only now. As cowards 'we grunt and sweat under this weary life' and rather than facing eternal void, we yearn to remain sleeping. I'm ashamed of this weakness.
Inside me, the voice says: "Follow the white rabbit, Neo!" I know it is the fear of the unknown holding me back. The 'undiscovered country, from whose bourn no traveler returns' It seems to be a scary place. To believe in heaven, one must believe in hell. If you want to believe there is good, you must believe in bad. Therefore, if there is a hell, we better take our sweet time getting there. (Just in case we're headed there...) Naturally, we are logical creatures. As George Bernard Shaw explains in Man and Superman, we are born greedy. We do what we can to survive and to protect ourselves. We do this out of fear. In history, the bravest living creatures faced their worst fears driven by love and passion in their hearts. Perhaps, that is the lesson we must learn. We are alive to overcome fear and to discover love.
Victor Frankel’s Man’s Search for a Meaning, work of Hobbs, Kafka, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Shaw, Camus... philosophers whose books I read many moons ago, lead me to conclude that life is reason. It is the series of choices we make. It's school with non stop exams. We face that which we are afraid of over and over until we find love. Love is the greatest strength of all.
If humanity sprung from a few microbes, then, when we die, the show is over . There is nothing after death, but is this a pleasant thought? I suppose that kind of thinking makes everything easier. Does it make any sense? If there is nothing after death, why bother learning, experiencing, understanding at life at all? The truth is that if we had only one choice to make in life there's a reason for all this - life.
If we allow ourselves to believe in God and take part in the mass delusion embraced by all religions life and the possibility of afterlife gain definition. Therefore, the choices we make in life give meaning to our lives and by extension, define afterlife. If there is no life after death, life has no meaning. It is as easy as 1, 2, 3. None of us are quick to embrace God or religion, especially not in the modern world. Unless God is beaten into our brains from birth by our religious parents, religion makes very little sense to most of us. When we give meaning to our lives by choosing to believe in something we are eternal. Shall I call myself an optimist? My tea may be stone cold and bitter now, but my cup remains half full. Life is sweet.
