Afraid of Hell?

AFRAID OF HELL?


Want to live forever? I don't. I'm afraid of hell.

Imagine this: 72 degrees, 20% cloud cover, warm sunshine, light breeze, you're on the beach. You can sip your beverage of choice, if you like, but there is no need for food or sustenance of any kind. Your body maintains health with no outside assistance. And by the way, your skin will never be damaged by the UV rays: sunburn is impossible.


Your chair is the perfect contour for your perfectly stable spine. Arthritis has been expunged, and if you so choose, you can walk along the beach for miles and miles, and never get tired. Without fear of crabs, jellyfish, or even shallow water sharks, wading in the perfect temperature water is bliss. There are no predators, and of course no prey. Why would you prey on anything anyway?


Enjoy the day. In fact enjoy the night, too. Anticipate tomorrow, for it will be just as perfect. And tomorrow. And tomorrow. And tomorrow...


This is the picture of hell. Eternity. Not place (beach or Hades), or conditions (temperate or inferno), but everlasting life. Infinity. Knowing that tomorrow is exactly like today: perfect in every way. The only possible release is hoping that "perfection" also means that your mind forgets you were here yesterday.


"What about my friends? Are they here?", you ask. If so, then remember, you are somewhere in their hell, too. But it doesn't really matter: hopefully, your mind forgets everything daily, so you wouldn't remember your friends from yesterday anyway. This is pure hell.


But is there any basis for thinking that hell (or heaven) will be anything like this? There is no basis for thinking anything at all about either. Seventy-two virgins is just as plausible as hellfire and brimstone, or pearly gates and streets of gold, or a perfect day on the beach. Equally likely and equally unlikely. Even if there were an afterlife (that WOULD BE a miracle) there is virtually zero chance of it being anything like we can imagine now.


Our endeavors to imagine the afterlife are on equal footing with writing or reading a novel: it's for entertainment only. We read books, watch movies, act out dramas of real or science fiction stories -- just to occupy our evolutionally advanced brains. Pretending to prepare for eternity fills the same role: entertainment for a day. No more, no less. Anything imaginable can be your story. Write, produce, and direct your own piece. "Fiction", "nonfiction" -- the terms lose meaning since all plots have equal standing.


Want to live forever? It's preposterous on the face of it, to behave today as if preparing for the next life. There is no preparing, there is only imagining. My imagining? I imagine there is no tomorrow. Or tomorrow. Or tomorrow.  Now that's pure heaven!

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