I do not arbitrarily accept the existence of God—nor, in fact, do I believe in a God—and I also am not compelled to attempt to figure out the mechanics of the spiritual universe. In fact, probably no such thing exists. I do not engage in discussions about the origin of matter, which is the primary argument true believers use to make the point that an everlasting God created it out of nothing—wherever nothing come from. I certainly have given up trying to figure out where this everlasting God—if he exists—got his start.
I am like everyone else in that I hope to walk into the bright light to be greeted by my loved ones when I die. I would also, perhaps more than anything, like to be assured of retaining my own identity, my “me,” after I die.
I have no idea if the lights simply go out after death and that’s it, or if our life-energy is recycled and we are transformed into a newborn bird or green plant or a form of life on a different planet. No one knows and any theory is just as good as another.
I once read that the atoms of the entirety of our earth and what we observe of the trillions of planets we can see and imagine could all be contained in the head of a pin in a larger universe, and that larger universe in one larger still and so on and on. That theory, of course, boggles the mind and leads to insanity, impotence or at least insomnia if you don’t strangle it immediately.
Not to come off as new age, but I do believe in positive energy and negative energy since they are proven commodities in the universe. I believe constructive thoughts and actions benefit me and those around me and destructive thoughts and actions are detrimental to all concerned. I try to live by those standards.
Simply put, we don’t know enough to know anything. Maybe death will give us some answers but somehow I don’t think so.