Is There Life After Stress?

by Sharon Kayne

Sometimes, when I don’t have enough real-life stress to worry about—like, what if Dubya gets a second term?, or should I start a retirement fund?, or what if my antidepressants stop working?—I spend some time worrying about what happens when we die.

I am of the general opinion that there are two major options for the end of life as we know it. There’s the spiritual option: that everyone’s own, unique consciousness—our soul, if you prefer—continues on in some post-corporal form. And there’s the atheist option: death is the end. El fin. It really is like going to sleep except you don’t dream and you never, ever wake up. I’ve given both options a great deal of thought and frankly, I don’t know which one freaks me out more.

I suppose it’s the absoluteness of both options that gets to me. The idea of existing on a spiritual plane for ever and ever and ever in some nonlinear, infinite loop of time, where you can’t even joke about dying of boredom, makes me nervous. I worry that I’ll have nothing interesting to do in perpetuity. It makes life after death seem a little, well, pointless. But the idea of death as the utter and complete termination of everything that makes me who I am also makes me nervous. I worry that I’m not doing anything important enough with what little time I do have. I’m definitely not enjoying it enough. And if it’s all over eventually anyway, it makes life before death seem a little, well, pointless.

Within the spiritual option, there is, of course, the sub-option of reincarnation. That’s where your own, unique consciousness continues on in a new body, but you have to go through puberty again. That option freaks me out the most because, to be honest, I’d rather die (even though I don’t know what—if anything—to expect after death) than go through puberty again (where I do know what to expect). I wouldn’t worry so much about reincarnation if I knew I’d at least be able to remember that I survived puberty in this lifetime. But the folks in the reincarnation camp don’t seem to think it works that way. If it did, we’d all remember lots of past lives. The idea of going through reincarnation over and over again and not being able to remember some of the neat stuff I learned the previous times makes life after life seem, well, pointless.

My husband (who hardly ever worries about anything) is a member of the atheist camp. He believes death is one big dirt nap. This distresses me a bit. Not because I think he should be in the spiritual camp, but because he’s so calm about the whole thing. The idea that he is going to cease to exist one day doesn’t disturb him in the least. Nor does it make him worry that he’s not living his life exactly right. It’s not that I begrudge him his peaceful sense of certainty. It’s that I want a piece of it too.

Although I’m by no means certain about either option, I’ve always believed a bit more firmly in the spiritual option. I suppose that’s because I was raised to believe it. What bothers me most about the death-is-the-final-sunset option is that if it is the real option I won’t even know it. I won’t be able to think to myself, ‘so this is what death is like’ because there won’t be a me left to think about anything. Of course, that also means there won’t be a me left to worry about something that’s completely out of my control. When I think about it that way, it doesn’t sound so bad.

This classic Citizen Kayne column was originally published the week of Jan. 16, 2003, in Crosswinds Weekly, an alternative newspaper based in Albuquerque, NM.

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