I think perhaps our view of death changes as we become more intimately acquainted with it. We are so flawed ... each and every one of us. To ask a human to reflect fully the nature of The Divine is surely to ask the impossible. That does not in itself change the nature of The Divine ... should such an entity exist.
I remember what faith felt like. I remember believing with (what I believed was) all of my heart. I was quite happy in my naivety as only teenagers can be. Faith seemed to me to be a simple choice. I chose to believe and in so doing I took a leap of faith. Thus I started the process of building a construct in my mind hinged upon certain inviolable truths.
The problem was twofold. The truths were not inviolable, and the builder wasn't either. The construct was too flimsy. It could not and did not withstand the batterings of Real Life. As the construct destructed a ground zero was created where once there had been the semblance of faith.
I am flawed. The people around me are flawed. Should I believe what they say? Should they believe me? The way we compensate for this "flawed-ness" is beyond me. There are too many things one can choose to believe in ... a menu of faiths too long and too complex exists to confuse and confound ... and yet there exists this yearning to believe.
I was watching a movie recently. The teacher in this movie was holding a cup of tea. He poured the tea onto the table and some of it dripped onto the floor. It was still tea. It had not changed it's nature by escaping the confines of the cup. He used this as an analogy for the life force that exists within us. It does not change when we die, it merely escapes the confines of our body.
Analogies always break down eventually under the pressure of ever closer scrutiny. Their purpose is not to withstand such scrutiny but to open our minds to new ways of thinking.
Some days I feel almost as if mum is watching over me. I imagine that I can hear her voice in my mind and I think I know what she is going to say before I hear the words. Very much as I did when she was alive. It still seems inconceivable to me that all of her is just gone. That there isn't something left over in some form beyond our collective memories of her.
I wish that what I used to believe could be made more believable so that I could once again take shelter in faith. Real life batters the heart that's for sure.