Bukowski's Right

Barring some vastly improbable medical breakthrough or benevolent alien intervention, my body will die. My heart will stop. I won't breathe. The electrical activity in my brain will cease. My body will die, but will I die? Will there be a "me" after my body's death?

Many assert an afterlife. Many others assert oblivion. Having listened to the evidence, neither afterlife nor oblivion seems proven.

I believe in uncertainty. I also believe Charles Bukowski got it right. "We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other, but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing."

Whether I live again or not, I will love this life now and go on loving it until its end. I will not be terrorized or flattened by trivialities. I will rage against its ending. I will go on hoping for an afterlife, for another adventure, for another bite of the red juicy apple, for another ride on the merry-go-round, for another chance at the brass ring.