(tick tick tick tick tick tick tick...)
"Don't you wonder about this "dying" thing? I mean, people really make a big deal about this all the time. Why do they call it "dying"? What if it's really a new beginning? Why don't we call it "re-booting?" When was the original "booting?" I don't like boots. They irritate my ankles.
I think most of us worry too much about what's going to happen at the end. I don't understand why we think we can second guess the universe and anticipate the next phase of our existence. If it's a phase, does than mean we eventually get over it?
Then there are those who think the more pious amongst us will go to some heaven where we wear white robes, sing, and play harps all the time. Don't you just hate robes? No pockets, and totally inappropriate after Labor Day. Don't even get me started about the harps.
If not ascending to heaven, I'm told we descend into fiery molten pits to live an eternity tortured by demons and hell's spawn. I guess it's kind of like watching "American Idol" or a Republican Presidential Debate.
In one of his more cherry moments speculating about death, Mark Twain noted:
"[A] Dying man couldn't make up his mind which place to go to -- both have their advantages, "heaven for climate, hell for company!"
I'm not sure which I'd prefer. Would interesting companions make up for lousy weather? Would I be allowed to smoke a good cigar in Heaven? I like my sweater. A little chill in the air makes me feel more alive.
But, as things go, I think I have to agree with that venerable philosopher, Socrates, who probably best expresses the reality of the situation:
"To fear death, gentleman, is no other than to think oneself wise when one is not, to think one knows what one does not know."
You see, to Socrates, death was either a dreamless sleep or something exciting and new to experience.
I like new experiences. That's how we grow and learn. But then, as Socrates also noted:
"To know, is to know that you know nothing. That is the meaning of true knowledge."
I sometimes wonder what Socrates would think of Google or Facebook.
Anyway, I'm going to miss my time on Earth. I've gotten used to my shoes and this sweater that has kept me warm most of my adult life. Will I be allowed to have a desk in heaven? I like this desk.
But then, as is often noted, "a wise man knows not to be the last to leave the party."
Guess it's time to go... see you soon."
(tick tick tick tick tick tick tick...)