CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The latest...poll...shows that 69 percent of Utahns believe in guardian angels, 32 percent have had some type of personal experience that leads them to believe or disbelieve, and 66 percent would share the experience with someone else if they were to have one.
Locally, 75 percent of females believe in guardian angels - 12 percent higher than the percentage of believing males. Women also reported having had a personal experience in slightly higher numbers than men. Younger people also tend to believe in angels in slightly larger numbers than their elders...
Those without a college degree believe in larger numbers than those with such a degree...
Catholics believe in the largest numbers, with 87 percent affirming belief...
Carrie Moore
Desert News, June 11, 1994
Poll conducted June 3, 1994
(c) 1994 Desert News, Dan Jones & Associates
Question: What would you take with you?
Answer: Love; joy; sex; ice cream; chocolate; music; dancing; wind; cool, gentle rains; clear, dark nights; warm baths; silk; a pair of brown eyes; eiderdown; cats.
Jane Drake
Harpoon Scenario Warehouse BBS
Orpington, Kent, United Kingdom
Question: What do you think you will be doing 1,000,000 years from now?
Answer: I'll be fertilizer!
"Bigbear"
Dawg House BBS
Utah
When you die you are dead. No thoughts happen. No happy, no sad, nothing.
People can make believe what they want to, and people believe many different things because it makes them feel comfy - content - at peace with their surroundings. People like to think that they know the ANSWER. People don't like to not know the answers to questions, so [they] pick a reasonable explanation, stick to it, and [are] happy.
One of the nice things about Christianity is, that if I realize that I am wrong, am a basiclly good person and do whatever needs to be done between me and God - then I get to party in eternal salvation. (But that's just being polite.)
"Bitman"
Milliway's BBS
Forestgrove, Oregon
I have had flashes of memory from times long in the past. I have had clear memories of fighting in a battle with a sword. I started getting these memories after I met my friend Sam. He has had the same recollections, but from another point of view.
I am standing on a hill with my back to someone else's. He and I are panting for breath, trembling, and I am feeling a bit battle mad. The hill is mostly surrounded by men in armor, some of whom are obviously hurt. They have all varities of medieval weapons and are advancing on us slowly. I am carrying two short swords, and I know how to use them. As I am about to engage in battle with two of the men, I know I am about to be killed. Over my shoulder to "Sam" I say, "Until the next time, brother," and turn berserker on my opponents.
[I have had] a near death experience, but don't want to talk about it. Too personal. The only thing I'll say about it is that it was the most wonderful thing that I've ever been through - and the most horrible.
Ghosts? Seen and talked to one. Little boy was killed in the house I grew up in. His body was kept in the storage room just under my bedroom. He wasn't found for five months. Seems his father beat him to death one night [while] in a drunken stupor. Andy - as I took to calling him - was five when he died. I was seven when we moved into the house, so he started to "play" with me. I was ten when he finally materialized to me - eleven when he spoke. He wasn't talking to me, but reliving his death. he kept saying, "I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to spill it. Please, don't hit me." Then he screamed. I never saw him again.
"Blackthorne"
The Dead Beat Club BBS
Portland, Oregon
It would be a place where I do not know everything, and I would have the rest of eternity to solve the mysteries of the old universe.
The seasons would change to my liking, and the food would be absolutely delicious.
You could visit whomever you wanted, whenever you wanted.
Time means nothing - you could be in several places at once.
The only thing I would take with me are my memories and my mind.
I believe that everyone has their own individual heaven, otherwise it would hardly be perfect.
I'm a white middle-class teenager. My Mother stays at home and my Dad works. I do very well in school. I am interested in theoretical physics and genetics, and dabble in computer programming. I'm a junior varsity wrestler.
"The Brain"
The Peanut Gallery BBS
Fairview Heights, Illinois
There is no "next world."
Why don't I believe in an afterlife? Because there is no REASON to. I'm sure some idea of heaven or paradise might be comforting, but so would the existance of Santa Claus, and I don't believe in that either.
"Count Zero"
WILD Munchkin's Castle BBS
Quebec, Canada
What awaits us? Well, I think most of us are dissolved into the creative intelligence that created us. Others continue on with as much as they can keep and/or carry into the next life.
What is the afterlife? Dunno. Probably a sort of pyscho-geography created partially by our expectations and convictions about the afterlife, along with those of other people/beings.
I think it WILL be friendlier than this world, with a lot more freedom. I guess it will be like living in a dream world - only we will be more conscious. I suppose it [will] be like a living, waking dream. Either that, or something like a continual state of consciousness akin to that I experience in meditation.
I can't say for sure, right now. I'll tell ya when I get there.
"Lambshead Squeegee"
Brian's Board BBS
Durham, North Carolina
I am a certified hypnotist and teach meditation. I experience - and help others to experience - their past lives.
I think we have about as many [incarnations] as we need. Sometimes with the help of hypnosis we can work through many of the lingering problems that we've carried through to this lifetime, work through the karma that has accumulated, [and then we] are able to quickly progress in our growth and development - thereby cutting down on the need for additional lifetimes.
So much has to be learned. After a number of lifetimes you begin to see a pattern, and this pattern can explain why you react in this lifetime the way you do. Once you have an understanding of the pattern or the reaction, you can change it - realizing that it originated at a time when it was appropritate but no longer is necessary.
[Returning spirits] often feel that their work or responsibility hasn't been completed. They don't leave - they don't go into the "light" and continue on with their growth in whatever comes next. They sometimes don't even realize that they are "dead."
"Love and Light"
Zenith Nadir BBS
Tampa, Florida
I literally died twice. Flat line stuff. Came back to my body and I guess I came back to life.
One time I was pronounced dead. Everyone started to move away from my physical body. I reached for it, and the next [thing] I knew it was a few days later and I was told I had indeed died and they didn't know why I was alive. I had a severe allergic reaction to an asthmatic medication.
[Another time] I ended up in a coma that was a four month duration [from] an accidental overdose.
I still haven't formulated a solid opinion on [the afterlife]. I do know that death does not cause me fear.
"Medicine Woman"
The Fish Line BBS
Buel, New York
I'll tell you what I believe heaven is!
Heaven will be here on this earth after all the people have died!
It will be brighter than the sun! Everybody who is worthy will be in this heaven - but you must be judged first!
Brad Peterson, 15
Stoneage BBS
Syracuse, Utah
The only thing I wish to take with me to heaven is among the very few things we can - my family. Every night I pray that God will give me the ability to teach my children correctly so they will know their Savior, Jesus Christ.
Intact memories are also the other thing I want to take with me.
"Proger"
Love Data BBS
Syracuse, Utah
When our souls leave our bodies - or shells - they go to another level we aren't able to reach. (If you take the gunpowder out of a bullet, all you have left is the shell.) From there it is changed (inside that level or maybe dimension) and then returned back into our normal level into another body - the soul into another body.
"Quark"
The Dog House BBS
Eugene, Oregon
I do not intend to be rude, but why is death "sacred?" I work in animal control, and I have also worked in a slaughter house. In my job, I kill lots of things. Death, to me, is nothing more than the loss of life. Once you're dead, that's it.
Death is final.
Until we die, you cannot prove me wrong, and until all the dogs/cats/cattle/hogs that I have killed start walking around again, I cannot prove [another view of the hereafter is] right.
All religion was started to give meaning to death. People long for a purpose: a reason for their existence. I just don't have that need. I do not feel man is so important that there has to be a reason.
Enjoy life while is lasts - without hurting others enjoyment of their lives.
I almost have my masters degree in counseling. My favorite class was "Grief and Loss," which was a study of death and dying. I honestly see religion as man's way to give meaning to life.
"Snake," 30
Back At The Ranch BBS
Leavenworth, Kansas
When you die, you die. Nothing else happens to you. You loose all consciousness.
"Waylander"
Cyberia BBS
Sherwood Park, Alberta Canada
Eternal Life is on the Line
There I was, the last person in the line. It was the longest line I had ever stood in, and it looked like it would be eternity before I'd get to the front.
...as we crept along, we began to talk to each other. Most of those near me didn't speak English. This caused shifts in the line. People would give up their position in line to be near someone who spoke their language.
...The first question each of us asked was, "How did you die?" It was that blunt. After all, we were all in the same situation.
I found out...about myself. If the person said that he or she had died from cancer, a car accident, a heart attack, or old age, that person was okay. But if the person said he or she had died of starvation, murder, suicide, or AIDS, I found myself stepping back...even if it meant loosing my position in the line.
...After telling each other how we died, we began to tell each other how we lived. It was a long line. None of us could see the pearly Gates (or were they Golden?) anywhere in the distance. So we talked. We talked about family, life experiences, accomplishments, what we had done for a living, and where we had lived.
And as we got to know each other a bit more, out came the regrets, disappoinments, failures, and sins. We had no reason to hide anymore.
We stood naked in front of one another. We didn't even have a watch on our wrists to keep track of time. However, force of habit did keep some of us looking at our wrists now and then to check the time. No jewelry, either. No medals and chains. No uniforms. No indication to say who we were, how much money we had, or what religion we were. Nothing but skin. And we didn't look our best...Yet, slowly, we were getting used to our nakedness. Shame was slipping away.
...we began talking about the judgement we figured we all would have to face once we got to the front of the line...I now knew what it must be like to be in a court waiting for a jury to decide your fate.
Somewhere, I understood why at times the people ahead of us in the crowd had been doing a lot of laughing and sometimes even singing. People had begun to help people. Some began carrying others: babies, kids, old people, handicapped and mangled people, regardless of color or how they had died.
We had begun to really mix. [Lines of] eights had become 16s. We found ourselves talking to people who couldn't speak our language - people from places we had never heard of or couldn't even pronounce.
After a while, the line really didn't matter. We were moving forward - slowly - toward each other. Dozens of people said out loud that they had never done anything for anyone while they were on earth and here they were helping others. People who had been killed in battle or gang violence were helping their enemies. They had forgiven one another.
A serenity, a peace, a love for each other was gradually taking over. This long line was helping each of us to become more patient, more other-centered. I was becoming less smug. Prostitutes and murderers were far more caring than I was.
...Were my eyes playing tricks on me? People started to look better. Was it the caring? Was it the singing? Was it the laughter? Was it the togetherness.
By now we were at least 16 people across. But who was counting?
...We kept moving forward. We kept meeting more and more people. And the level of joy and peace kept rising.
Then came a silence, a strange new silence. It slowly came over each of us. It's hard to describe. It was a hunger, an empty feeling, a loneliness. Each of us started to go back into ourselves here in the middle of the euphoria of meeting and greeting and helping so many people.
It was God. It was a hunger and a thirsting for God. I want God. I want to know you, God. I want to be with you, God. I discovered that others were saying the same thing within themselves as well. The fear of judgement had been forgotten. We wanted God - this God of love - this God who had created all us people - this God who was leading all of us through a learning and cleansing process in this long, long line.
Sarah, a woman who had been in a nursing home for ten years crippled with arthritis but [who] now had the step of a dancer, came back to us saying, "People up front are reporting that we are in heaven already. There are no gates. This is it. This is how it works. We have to go through all this - straighten everything out with our brothers and sisters - before we can meet God."
"Already in heaven? If we're already in heaven," I said to myself, "I want to find my mom and my dad, my nephew and my brother. But they died years ago. Are they still in this line? Is it that long? I don't know! I don't know!"
...Maybe it's exactly as Jesus said it would be. As we get closer and closer to the front of this line, we'll all be as beautiful as brides ready to meet God our Lover. Maybe this line is leading to the great wedding feast: eternity.
I don't know. But I do know one thing. I am not getting out of this line even if it takes forever to get to the front.
essay by Father Andy Costello, C.SS.R
U.S. Catholic
August 1992
Chapter Thirty-four
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