Foremost on my Mind: Is There Life After Life?

Have you ever wondered if there is life after...life? There are certain religious philosophies that embrace something called “reincarnation.” (And, Maurice, if you really want to impress the women, call it “metempsychosis.” But why on earth would you want to discuss rebirth with women is beyond me.)

I won't go into the fallacy of such a philosophy, because, frankly, I don't have the liberty to turn this page into a pulpit. I will state briefly, however, that my understanding is that life begins at conception and should be lived to its fullest until the point of death. After the door of death, evangelicals understand that there is an eternal existence on a whole new plain, either for better or worse. (Hope I got away with a token theology, without compromising my integrity.)

So, no, while I don't believe I'm coming back in another form, I must admit that I do speculate about it betimes.

So let's fantasize together with for a few moments. You see, all the things I think I'm missing during my present life, I would like to incorporate in my new one. I think I would like to be taller, smarter, fitter, and maybe even richer. And, of course, that would make me happier, wouldn't it? (Can you hear the sizzling sarcasm?)

True or not, you must admit that it makes good copy for a column.

Close to home, that's the message we get when we watch television commercials, isn't it? “Drink this beer and the babes will flock your way” (sex); “take these supplements and you will live a much better life” (health); “chase this scheme, then watch the money pour in” (wealth).

It's instant reincarnation, without the going out, then coming back—but it's all a big pipe dream.

We tend to fall prey to such tempting tripe. The grass is always greener on the other side (but no, it's still just grass). “Ifonly” (a corruption of the words 'if only') feeds the restless ego like coal feeds a fire: If only my parents had given me more advantages when I was a kid; if only I was raised with fewer siblings; if only I was taller,smarter, fitter, richer, and so on. I call that disease “ifonlyitis.”

But when we realize that the “if only” component will never kick in, then we fall prey to the dream of another life—coming back to earth in a new and improved form.

At this point of the conversation (I know we're not really talking here, but it makes me sound like an intellectual), I would say something like “we still have it better than our parents,” or “we are still better off than our parents.” Part of that is true: We have more things and toys, to be sure, but I challenge the notion that we are substantially better off than our respective Moms and Dads.

The incessant greed that marks most of us Baby Boomers and X-generation is proof that we are not necessarily better off than the previous generation. In the things that matter most, we certainly are not. Many of our marriage do not last as long; and if they do last, they are not marked the mutual love and respect that many of us saw in our folks.

I know there are exceptions, but they are, well, just exceptions.

And the same can be said about family life: What I remember from pictures and conversations about family life in the 40's, 50's, and 60's, compared to the mess today that is called home, I want to gag. A messed up family today is a messed up society tomorrow—if not sooner. If we can't lead our families, we certainly can't lead our nation.

So, falling for the fallacy of life after life, in order to make up for this life's (apparent) shortfalls, is a heart cry for a change now. This is good, and a wise place to start. While there are some things we can never change—eg., height, ethnicity, parents and siblings—there are some that we can.   And should.

It won't happen in a make-believe life after life, coming back here as some cool guy or hot babe. It can and will only happen here and now.

No better way to finish this paper than with the famous Prayer of Serenity: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”