As a person who is fascinated by both the beauty and the mechanism of the world around us, I have vacillated between the passivity of simply accepting and trying to enjoy my life and the universe I inhabit, and the struggle of questioning and investigating the first principles and the mystery of that existence.
What is a human being? We grow ever more sophisticated in our understanding of the body, our genetic code, our physical existence, our maladies, our aging. It is true that our understanding of the brain lags somewhat. Scientists have begun to link our thoughts, emotions and consciousness to various parts of that mysterious organ, but the question remains: Is there more to us than biology? Is there a soul, a spirit that is immortal? Is there something that will remain after the heart stops beating and the brain function has ceased?
The question of whether I am more than simply some energy configured in human form is one I have grappled with frequently in my life. There were times when I was almost willing to fully embrace Christian theology. And I still am sympathetic to the fervent desire of so many to be adherents to a specific faith and find comfort in their tenets.
But even in my most ardent religious moments a nagging doubt was present. The exclusive nature of most religions was the first crack in the wall for me. How could God consider any sincere search for truth to be sacrilege? And once that small crack emerges, the entire structure of religious certainty becomes very shaky.
As my skepticism about organized religion grew, I found myself jettisoning all specific theologies and veering toward agnosticism. Some part of me wants to believe that there is an eternal soul or spirit that will endure beyond this mortal coil. Given how little we understand even today the true nature of the matter and energy that we embody, I see no reason not to wish for some sort of lasting consciousness and existence once my physical body has died.
And isn’t religion ultimately very focused on death and our fear of it? Religion uses the mirrored prospects of either a hellish or heavenly afterlife to justify its existence and to control behavior. It promises a reunion with lost loved ones, a rejuvenation of a worn and aged body, a continuation of life without toil, pain or grief. No wonder it has had such success!
Some great thinkers and scientists seem content to believe that their deaths will be the end for them, and it is hard to refute this type of thinking from a scientific point of view. Let’s face it, the religious texts are pretty terse on their descriptions of the life hereafter (many mansions in my Father’s house?) and any serious pondering of the possible details of heaven, hell or other post-Earth modalities becomes absurd pretty quickly.
But I find no solace in the idea that my ‘energy’ will simply dissipate and become part of something new in the universe. I don’t want to cease to exist. I’m neither a fan of growing old nor of disappearing, and the offered platitudes of being remembered by family and friends are only slightly reassuring.
As I draw ever nearer to the end of my physical being, the mystery of life and death becomes much less an abstraction and more a topic to seriously ponder. But I have no illusions that I will find any answers before my demise. Perhaps I will hedge my bets and do a deathbed conversion to every possible religion. But more likely I will simply hope for the best, as I have done in so many aspects of my life, and accept whatever comes.