The After
I asked a god once… Well, I’ve asked this god a lot of things, and he (there’s something masculine about the presence) does his best to answer, but even he doesn’t know everything. Anyway, I asked him once about the nature of being a spirit in a material body, which is something he isn’t but supposes he could be if he were so inclined. (He isn’t so inclined, and I do sometimes think he’s speaking more out of bravado and the need for attention than any special knowledge or insight. For instance, he told me that he and the universe were made at the same time so couldn’t really explain his or the universe’s origins.) It took him a while to find a way to explain, er, the nature of being to me, but it went something like this:
He showed me a fire. Like, a bonfire or something. And said, “This used to be wood, but now it is ash. You would not look at it and say it was wood, even though you know it used to be.”
Ooookaaaayyy….
But then he went on to say, “If this used to be a house, you wouldn’t call it a house now, either. And also, if it was a home… Even if it still stood but was abandoned, would it still be a home? Only, maybe, in someone’s memory.”
It was, I think, a somewhat convoluted way of pointing out the differences between a shell and the spirit of something, like, what a shell can embody in the form of feelings and energy. Even if the home burns, it continues to exist in the minds of those who lived and made memories there. At least, I think that’s what he was getting at.
He then said, “The wood has become ash, but nothing is wasted. A different form, a different function, but it’s all there in some way.”
I think about that a lot, changing form and function, and what that might mean. This god thinks it’s a bit bizarre that we exist in such fragile physical shells, and he doesn’t pretend to know where our consciousness goes when the shells break, but he seems to have faith in the idea that “nothing is wasted.” Which is nice to know.