August 03, 2024 – A

We live and die as though we are individuals.
But
It gets all blurry and slushy
like a blenderized fruit medley
in death.

All our lines are erased.

We look around as single malt liquor might
in its curing barrel,
wondering if we just made up individually,
and if we didn't, how did it all disappear so quickly?

But really?

I have a 1 year old great granddaughter,
and a 29 year old oldest granddaughter.
Neither are anything like they were at birth,
and are nothing like they will be at eighty.
So, who/where/when is this "individual self"?

It's a fiction.
There are no individual selves.
We blink and we're different.
We are a lifetime of different selves
thinking we are one eternal, unchanging, self.

Then we meet the curing barrel and are stunned.

The whole self-thing was just a warm-up.
The after life extravaganza goes on forever,
with us forming new and different shapes
and patterns,
liquid and solid, light and sound,
spinning and flowing, 
through gravity and time.

Rainbows and northern lights,
Supernovas and dark matter...
The cosmos is our playground,
and we are just getting underway.

Until we die, 
heaven is the best we can do.
But what waits
is a completely different world
without end.
Amen!