Hi Genny,

My reference to the afterlife was just hyperbole, and
related to the variety of expectations we may or may not have put on GMJ.  I think some of us transferred our Christian
ideas of salvation to him and saw him as a modern day Christ, with all that
talk of bringing peace to the world and coming with more power than ever……etc

My own recollection is that once when asked about what happens
after death, he answered something like “Ask Pan Am (Airways)”, a flippant
reference.  It seemed to me that he
scrupulously stayed away from the subject, including past lives talk and such.  Pretty much kept it at the getting ‘happy’
and ‘peaceful’ level in the current waking state arena.  I am sure there are others on the Forum that
can recall more on this subject, and I would interested to hear what they have
to say as well.

I don’t have a ‘likely story’ or a strong belief on the
subject myself.

I recently wrote the following paragraph as part of a letter
to friend about the death of my father.

Over time, my father became a born-again Christian, a real Benny Hinn,
Jesse Duplanis-loving evangelical from Southern Baptist stock.  While
questioning how a guy like this could actually be my dad, I argued with him
incessantly.  Then, as his life wound down in his eighties, I actually
felt happy that he had his religion that gave him so much certainty and
comfort, and shielded him from so much fear of the unknown.  I was with
him continuously during his last days, and the only one with him when he
died.  It was amazing, horrible, glorious, tragic and ecstatic.  As
he approached the final stage of congestive heart failure (taking zero
medications or otherwise mind altering medicines), he seemed to retreat into a
clear, thoughtless awareness that poured from his eyes.  I am almost
certain that he did not even think about Jesus towards the end, and his very
ability to think and recollect anything had been undermined by his
condition.  On the morning of his very last day, with me having taken up
vigil in the barco-lounger next this bed, I saw that his eyes were open, so I
leaned my face directly over his, and when he was able to focus his gaze in a
shift of recognition, I said “Please don’t hate me because I’m beautiful”, and
he laughed, or did a reasonable facsimile of laughter given his
condition.  I found it amazing, beautiful that he could find humor in his
last moments.  At some point the clear awareness pouring from his eyes
stopped pouring, and he died on his back looking like a king in repose. 
Anyway, I have become more and more tolerant of delusions around the nature of
the universe, particularly with respect to afterlife.

I do feel one thing very strongly: that your father wanted
you to be happy and would not want you to continue to suffer because of his death
and the way it happened.

A beautiful poem by Pablo Neruda just came to me, and I’m
not sure I have this completely right, but this is what I remember:

When I die, succeed me with such shear force that you waken the furies of the pallid and the cold, 

From south to south, lift your indelible eyes

From sun to sun, sing through your dreaming mouth.

I don’t want your steps to falter

I don’t want my heritage of joy to die,

But do not call up my person, I am absent.

Live in my absence as if in a house so vast,

that inside, you may pass through the walls and hang pictures on the air.

Live in my absence as in a house so transparent, that I lifeless will see you living.

And if you suffer my love, I will die again.

Warm regards, Mike