Also, blame puddinghead.

Surely this spirit thing would have some sort of energetic or physical manifestation, if it did exist.

It's an interesting thing, being with someone while they die. I know what is normal and what will probably happen to the person physically, so the experience lacks any fear for me. So, for me, to be holding someone as they die (and I love the expression "pass on", it's so apt) because I am part of the experience for them, I join them a little in the journey. For me it is a physical sensation, I feel something open that is usually closed. I feel the acceptance and love of wherever it is that we go. I am allowed or able to walk part way with the person and see them on their way with love, but they go the rest of the way not needing me. The feeling of that open door stays with me for a long time, and it affects how I feel about everything. Sometimes I think that the spirit of the person lingers for a little bit (they even alluded to this on an episode of CSI, which I thought was great) to look fondly on or pass on some love. During times of great emotion, I feel the door open a bit, and I feel the presence of some of those souls again, the most beloved, and the strangers who appreciated my help. I think what happens when we die is that we do walk through a corridor of light, we are unafraid, and we are guided by those who love us. Did you know that children are guided by departed pets who they loved? I think heaven is when we are eveything all at once. I think that time ceases to be linear, and we are infants, children, lovers, parents, all at once. And Stevie Ray Vaughn is there.

Though I wasn't exposed to religion until my early teens, and am not now religious, I have always had a keen sense of god. Less as an entity than an existence. Words fail me on this and I'm okay with that as it isn't something I feel the need to justify anymore than the color of my eyes or exactly why and how I love my best beloved. It merely is and words failing are not indicative of a lack of validity. Simplistic? Perhaps. Important? Absolutely.

What I've found most interesting is that I never felt so confused about god and that relationship as when I was attending church on a regular basis. In a youth group discussion about the Rapture, we started talking about heaven and the afterlife. Everyone was coming up with these horrible hypotheses about being judged and quizzed or punished upon dying/reaching heaven. I told them that I had always felt that dying and meeting god/reaching heaven would be like coming home from summer camp, where you got swept up in a huge embrace and heard, "Heya, Peanut! We sure did miss you!!" I know this sounds hokey and rather unexciting but I've honestly never doubted it. Perhaps I should, but I don't know what good it would do me.

I know that for some, it sounds strange to hear an (otherwise) articulate, educated and intelligent person who has experienced far more than her share of pain and loss say that she has had constant daily communication with god for as long as she can remember. However, at the end of the day, if I look back to find that it was all a product of naive self-delusion, but one that lent me a source of happiness, compassion, strength and stability, I'll still feel as though I've come out ahead of the game. On the other hand, when I get to heaven and see Oolong waiting for me with something wonderful balanced on his head, well, you can bet there's going to be some serious celebrating going on.

And, mudpuppie, hugs and condolences. Regardless of what you think happens after death, loss is never easy.

If the spirit goes anywhere, I intuit that it goes back to where it came from.

A recurring intuition/dream/vision/whatever I've had is that of a sort of primordial soup of spirit(s) exists. It's comprised of the sum total of all consciousness in all existence, known and unknown. It may or may not be the fabric from which reality and physicality itself is tailored.

There are quite a few religions of the world that reference or allude to something similar to this.

I've seen and felt my own spirit and the spirit of "others" as a spark of light; Some brighter, some darker, all different colors, textures and shapes. But each is light.

I know it's terribly cliche. But it's apt, and accurate. I've seen/felt it in numerous meditation and meditation-like experiences.

Anyway, this soup. When in the soup, discorporated, not physically manifested, whatever. There is no "other", really. I mean, there is, but there isn't. I don't think any earthly language can really describe it. Poetry, perhaps, or simply 'paradox'. There's only the soup, and being in and of the soup. Being the soup. There's no real boundary or boundaries. Everything is quite dynamic and probably never static. Your thoughts, your motives, your experiences are all shared throughout the soup. There is a sort of quantum individuality, a granularity to the soup, but it's even far less defined than grains of sand on a beach. Sand is a decidedly non-soup-of-light-like metaphor, however.

I think that the very rudimentary fundamental/literal Christian metaphor for Heaven and Hell - and even physical life - can be described as follows.

It would be a terrible place to be fearful, especially to be fearful of anything "other" or any sort of contact. It would be a terrible place to be mistrustful. And a terrible place to be hateful.

But it would be a overwhelmingly wonderful place to be if one were trusting, social, unafraid and loving.

But that probably applies to "real life" just as easily. "Heaven" and "Hell" are what you make of it. They're both the same "place", but the only difference is how you look at it. Stay in love.

I wasn't entirely in love with Robert Sawyer's "Factoring Humanity" but the Overmind resonates with me.

In any case, my comfort at this point, in seeing so many relatives go, is that I am positive we are all going to the same place (either somewhere, or nowhere).

Honey, my feeling on this is that it is by default a similar thing to being born: it causes a certain amount of upheaval in the lives of those closest to us, it is one of the two most important things to happen to us during our physical existence, and the very nature of "life" as we know it demands that we undergo both experiences.

If I had had the tiniest bit of foreknowledge while I was in the womb, I probably would have been dreading the whole birth experience as the End of Life Worth Living, and tried to avoid it at any cost. Yet I underwent that trauma, and, overall, I'm pretty pleased that I did. I'm holding out similar hopes for the death thing.

I believe there's something else after death, but that it doesn't matter--life is what counts entirely. I wonder about it, but hopefully won't find out for a long time. (i think i feel that way bec of all the friends i buried way too young--i want to think of them as going on or something--while my family believes you go out like a light bulb.)

My grandmother used to say that the day you're born, the day of your death is written down in a big book somewhere, but that you could never know, so stop thinking about it, and eat some more--you're too thin. : >

I believe the lightbulb thing too, way deep down, but i like thinking of more later, not that life isn't full enough.

I guess i bounce back and forth, or want it for others but not necessarily for myself?

It is immensely interesting to think about tho. I wonder what would happen if anyone ever really came back and told their story.

I think you get fed grapes by 72 Virginians.

I hover between knowing and hoping there's something after we die. I guess it depends on how my attitude is that day. :-P

I'm sorry for your loss, mudpuppie.

I hope something comes after. I want there to be something more. Rational thought tells me that it's impossible but most of the time I think/know/hope that it's not. I want to believe that we see our loved ones again and that we learn something of the nature of life, our purpose, that sort of thing.

My condolences on your loss.

My grandmother used to say that the day you're born, the day of your death is written down in a big book somewhere, but that you could never know, ...
I believe this too, although I really don't know why.

Sorry for your loss, mudpuppie. Funerals can suck, but I hope you used the opportunity to celebrate the person's living after you had finished mourning his/her death.

Thanks all. I wasn't trolling for sympathy (but thanks!). Was sincerely curious about the various perspectives. This past week I've been exposed to more of them (perspectives, that is) than I knew existed. Just makes you wonder what other people think.

The most striking thing I've found is that Person A tends to think that persons B-Z feel have identical beliefs, and that Person A is a bit shocked to learn that there are at least 25 additional theories.

[I've also learned that funeral directors aren't nearly as well-dressed in real life as they are on Six Feet Under.]

My usual motto is "People Suck." This weekend, though, I've temporarily amended it to "People sure as hell are interesting."