Words and pictures from the author of the Elizabeth Goodweather Appalachian Mysteries
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Into the Light
Not being religious, I have no firm conviction as to the nature or even the existence of an afterlife. I do agree with Mark Twain who felt that an eternity spent playing harps and singing praises would be tedious. And I reject the notion that any loving deity would condemn anyone to eternal torment. Beyond that -- well, I've been willing to be surprised.
I've never spent much time thinking about the hereafter -- except, as the joke goes, when I'm standing in front of the open refrigerator and wondering what I'm here after. But recently . . .
Every morning I descend into the dark basement, deal with the laundry, then fill a can with sunflower seeds for the bird feeder outside. I pick up a walking stick (the grass is usually slick with dew) and open the door. The brilliance of the just-risen sun dazzles my eyes. I bow my head and set off into the bright light of a spring morning.
If I could choose my afterlife, this is how it would begin.
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