If what I am about to say is gonna’ be news to you, I really hate to be the one to break it. Imagine hearing me flick my tongue in sarcastic sympathy and empathy when I tell you this; but you didn’t make it sport. You’re dead and as much of a tragedy as I know you want to make that right now, don’t. Just don’t. I get it. Its tempting to make your demise some big, heart-wrenching ordeal where you flip out because you don’t even remember your funeral, much less the events that lead to that day (lots of people showed up and said lots of nice things about you, trust me. It was really lovely.) but put the proverbial handkerchief away. Life, for lack of a better word, goes on. And so, must you! Because after all, here you are. Given the fact that you have indeed died, and things still seem to be happening in your awareness, it is my suggestion that you probably find some kind of bearing on this side of the veil. Like a map with a big, bright arrow pointing to inform you that “YOU ARE HERE!” with apparent glee in its font.
Look, I don’t mean to be insensitive about this and normally I would shed a tear or two with you, maybe pat you on the back and tell you everything is going to be ‘ight…but enough of this already. This is by no means the first time you have gone through this rig-a-ma-role. It’s called reincarnation, it’s like…a thing. Don’t try to squirm out of this by debating it because I assure you its in your book too. Don’t blame me because some dude that suspiciously stood behind a podium about yea-tall (wink, wink) every Sunday morning screamin’ at ya’ said otherwise. Don’t blame that guy either. He found a groovy niche to make some cash by giving you and the rest of the flock his opinion for a living and that’s pretty ingenious if you ask me; although I admit it is a bit screwy. You should have done your due diligence rather than pass the buck of responsibility in knowing things for yourself rather than simply believing them so I am going to assume from this point on that you are one of those kiddies that likes gold stars, has rolled this reincarnation thing over quite a few times and have ultimately come to the brass tacks of it all and deduced that not only is it like…a thing; it’s the thing that actually gives you the freedom to not only be pretty hip about the fact that you are dead but pretty hip in general.
Death is just a door-way from one manner of observing and interacting with The Universe or God/Goddess or what have you, to another manner of observing and interacting with The Universe. Now, I understand that in the place you have come from, death is this ominous, ever-looming event that is just going to be oh so horrible and painful and yadda-yadda-yadda but now that you know you’ve already done it; it’s very much like getting over a cold, isn’t it? You dread it when it creeps up. You suffer through it by numbing yourself with thick, gooey syrups in either orange or green depending on the time of day. However, you never even take notice when it has passed. There is never this moment where a trumpet goes off announcing the end of your cold, like when royalty enters the room. You never actually feel the moment when you pass from having a cold to no longer having a cold. You just suddenly realize it a few days down the road and say to yourself “Hey, my cold snuck off and didn’t even say goodbye” before power marching down the street with upturned chin to the rays of the sun. Yeah. Death. Same concept. Imagine the blueprint for all of the horrible, terribly depressing, rainy day colds you have ever experienced; look at it and acknowledge that despite their best attempts, you always muddled through them or sweat them out to once again breathe in the fresh air. Reborn. Now lay that blueprint on top of how life and death work and you are in the neighborhood of having a good start with this whole thing.
See, I told you there was nothing worth getting in a tizzy over. The worst part is over and if you are here, experiencing now regardless of when now is for you, then I got some good news for you, to sort of offset the bad news I gave you at the start. You made it to the other side. Congratulations. There were a lot of little clay jars that didn’t. Now, perhaps you were expecting clouds, gates, tablets with to do’s and to don’ts that you would be judged for by a cheap Zeus impersonator but that isn’t really how it works. Unless you are in the kindergarten of evolution, somewhere between story time and nap time on little squares of carpet while Ms. Chicalee smokes a cigarette in the rec room. Nope, death is not the diva she has been made out to be but rather, much more of a lady. She prefers to touch her clientele with a velvet glove rather than an iron fist and as we previously agreed; her touch is simply to nudge you through the door.
At this point you are no doubt asking yourself on some level and in morbid curiosity as to how exactly you died. That’s normal. I get that question quite frequently when I work this shift. While on many occasions it can be a very awkward conversation, especially in the Texas panhandle, for all of you guys in this latest batch its pretty much a straight forward, across the board answer. You died in an apocalypse. Now damnit, what did I say when I filled you in on your death?! None of this flailing around in a panic like Oh Fortuna is playing in the background. Apocalypse’s work the same as death and colds, only on a bigger scale so knock it off. However, I will grant you that swallowing that pill is going to be a little trickier than the first and will allow a little levity here in that you probably deserve that notion fleshed out a little more. First, I’ll be kind enough to give you some time to digest all that you’ve taken in thus far before moving on to a little world building. I dunno’, we might can just call that part something like…oh, perhaps…Chapter One: This Is the Part Where We Spend Some Time World Building or something witty like that.
To be carried on with…
A SONG TO PLAY US OUT…