My father-in-law’s funeral last weekend has me revisiting the mystery of death. Organized religions have it figured out. Unfortunately, their explanations stopped working for me many years ago. I often wonder if they work for anyone. Are words and beliefs which originate outside of us really enough to erase our terror of death, or is something more needed? Something powerful and personal that arises from within.
Dad’s church service was beautiful and deeply moving. I was grateful for the opportunity to honor his life in this sacred space and it felt right and necessary to celebrate his memory with family and friends. But this time-honored tradition didn’t answer my questions about death.
Over the years I’ve wondered things like, when I die, what is the “I” that dies? Is it all of me, or just the physical part of me, or some of the mental parts too, or what? If anything lives on, what is it? Where does it live?
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