Even more like heaven, and the internet keeps getting faster

Edited, improved slightly and still as true as anything I've written.

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash

Edited, improved slightly and still as true as anything I've written.

This is based on this post “Heaven, With Slower Internnet”, which I wrote in 2021. It’s still true today.

I’m still in Heaven. Bobbi is here with me, even if her body is not.

May everyone who reads this join me in their own “place a lot like Heaven.”

(Thanks again to Jess for inspiration)

(Sorry/not sorry it’s so long. I do tend to go on.)

A place a lot like Heaven

I’m living in the afterlife—a place a lot like Heaven but with slower internet.

I have no reputation to protect, no secrets to keep. All sins have been forgiven.

I have nothing that I need to accomplish. And yet, there are things to be done.

I have a wife who I love and who loves me. The year I wrote this, we celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary and our 53rd cohabiversary, and she was still pushing her body around. She is still with me but without the body. I wrote about it here. And here. And in several other places.

January 27, 2024

I woke up next to my wife.

She wasn’t breathing.

Her body was cold.

She was dead.

This is generally not good.

She’s still my best friend. She still knows my every success and failure, knows every secret I might have ever wanted to keep from the world. She still loves me nonetheless.

We have three amazing daughters. They have each found a wonderful man to marry. I have given each one “Family Tenure” and call each one son, not son-in-law—although it confuses people. Sometimes, I call them SBMs, which needs explaining.

Our girls—now women—saw in their mother the mom they aspired to be. They’ve each achieved that goal and surpassed it in their own way.

We have seven grandkids, each an individual. Even the littlest ones are uncommonly independent and creative, like their mothers and fathers.

Once self-estranged from my family-of-birth, I am newly on a loving quest with my brother and another with my sis. We are healing what is past. Others in the family join us.

I have a few friends, and I cherish the friendship of each. I don’t communicate with them as much as I would like. If you are one of my friends and have not heard from me lately, I love you. If you’re unsure whether you are my friend, you probably are, and I love you.

My life is a collection of good examples and cautionary tales. I’ve recorded some in this blog. More will come.

I tell stories of the mistakes I have made and stories of the corrections I have discovered. As I have written, mistakes are the only route to knowledge—even for God. I’ve made and recorded mistakes so you don’t have to make them.

But it’s okay if you do.

My mundane life is over. I’m living in the afterlife.

In the afterlife

Forgiveness has opened the door to the part of the afterlife where I make my home. Most of the time, it’s like Heaven, but sometimes it’s like “The Good Place” What was wonderful can turn into shit in an instant. But I’ve learned to turn shit back to wonderful in another instant. I spend less and less time in the shit and more and more in Paradise.

Resentfulness, judgment, and criticism are lifelong bad habits. Sometimes, I do what I have practiced for years without being aware. A mean thought. A curled lip. And just like that, I’m in a place like hell, in an evil dream. When I wake, I realize what I’ve done. I forgive myself and forgive what I had dreamed had deserved contempt. And then I’m home again.

Each one of us who suffers lives in their own Hell, a Hell of self-design.

The afterlife includes not one hell but many, each custom-made.

I’ve made a couple of my own, and I visit them from time to time. Less and less often.

No one is condemned

No one is condemned to Hell; we choose Hell by choosing guilt, resentment, hopelessness, bitterness, and revenge instead of Love.

I wrote “Love or Fear” about the only choices we have. Choose fear, and the door to Hell stands open. Choose Love, and you’re in Heaven.

I know people who spend time in their private hells and are convinced there’s no way out.

No matter what’s happened to me, I’ve always had hope. There’s always a way out. All things pass.

There was a time when I’d exhort friends who were hopeless to “get out of it”—because I always knew I could. It might take time, but I knew I could.

And worse, I’d get angry at them for not taking my excellent advice.

Even worse, I’d get upset and blame them for “pulling me down.”

Really? I did that? What strange ideas!

I don’t do that anymore. I used to know what was right for everyone. Now, I do not know what’s right for anyone—even myself. I can make suggestions, but not because I think I’m right—as I used to. Instead, I try to suggest that there’s more than one way to look at this situation. Because there is.

I know what’s directionally right for me: Love, forgiveness, faith, and hope. But apart from direction, I don’t know the answers.

I recommend that direction to others. I do it to reaffirm what’s right for me, not because I know it’s right for them. It might be, or it might not. I don’t know.

And if you’re living in Hell and want some company, I am happy to abide with you until you see that you’re one step from Heaven.

Just don’t expect me to believe that you can’t get out. You will.

Don’t expect me to believe you are unloved or unlovable. I love you. QED.

If you don’t want me with you, that’s OK. I will wait.

Forgiveness

Forgiveness is why my afterlife is more like Heaven and less like Hell.

I operate on these principles: to forgive another is to forgive myself, and to forgive myself is to forgive the world.

Maybe it’s true, or maybe not. I assume it’s true, and assuming it’s true has helped make my world.

I’ve forgiven every error, omission, mistake, offense, shortcoming, trespass, transgression, wrongdoing, and sin I remember—mine and others’. Sometimes, new ones come to mind; I forgive them, usually quickly. Sometimes, I make a new mistake that needs forgiveness. I forgive, and I am forgiven.

I don’t believe in God, and the God that I Don’t Believe In is the best and most loving parent imaginable. The God I Don’t Believe In has forgiven me for everything. The God I Don’t Believe In is omniscient and has forgiven me for things I don’t yet remember and have yet to do.

Forgiven, I do not withhold forgiveness from anyone for anything. I have been given more forgiveness than I need. Why not share the wealth? What possible good would come if I withheld forgiveness from one in need?

I do not call myself a Christian, but I love Jesus’ radical teachings:

Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for they which despitefully use you and persecute you… For if you love them which love you, what reward have you?…do not even the publicans the same?

I believe in love. As Paul says:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Adolf Hitler was once a sweet child—as are all children. But the world is filled with bad teachers. Some taught little Adolf fear instead of love.

Little Adolf followed the wrong teachers because he knew no better; he learned the wrong lessons because he was not taught the right ones—or he was told and it was too late for him to learn.

I forgive the teachers who taught Adolf Hitler. I forgive the world that elevated those teachers to positions of authority. I forgive those who taught Little Adolf’s teachers the lessons they taught Little Adolf.

I forgive Adolf Hitler.

I forgive Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. And every other person that some people have been taught to hate. ADYB, We are always doing our best.

And I assume that the God Who I Don’t Believe In, with whom I speak, forgives us all.

Good examples and cautionary tales

My life is a collection of good examples and cautionary tales.

Among the good examples are the times I have forgiven; among the cautionary tales are times I’ve nurtured resentment and refused to forgive.

If you want forgiveness and can’t forgive yourself, and you have a God Who you can ask, then ask for forgiveness. If it’s not immediately granted, find a kinder God. There are lots of gods you can choose.

If you don’t believe in God, assume one exists, and ask That One. What’s the harm?

If forgiveness does not come, choose the God you believe in, but choose wisely.

Believe that which is helpful. Or don’t believe in anything and do what works.

To repeat myself, We only have two choices: love and fear. To forgive is to choose with love; to choose with love is to forgive. To choose not to forgive is to choose fear. Simple.

Sometimes fear comes to me, and I choose it before I realize I had a choice.

Choosing fear is but a bad habit. And habits can be changed.

I work to face my fears, replacing them with love. I forgive.

Nasty moments

It’s not all rainbows and unicorns.

The ego does not give up easily.

I have moments when I judge. I sometimes criticize when I’m frustrated, irritated, or annoyed.

“He sucks, she sucks, they suck,” says ego, “and so do you.” And momentarily, I’m in Hell.

“Forgive,” says the voice of the God I Don’t Believe In. Or my own remembered voice.

“I forgive,” I say.

I forgive myself for impatience, intolerance, arrogance, and a host of synonyms. I forgive the errors of the people around me. And just like that, I look and find I’m home.

Forgive me for going on and on and on and on.

The best thing I’ve ever written

“This is the best thing I’ve ever written,” I thought. Or I thought that I had thought.

“You didn’t think that,” God said. “That’s your ego thinking for you. It’s a good piece of writing, but it came to you. It was inspired. You didn’t write it. Gratitude, not pride, is what’s deserved.”

“It wasn’t me that thought that thought,” the ego lied. “It was you.” The ego always lies. “And this is you, thinking this, too,” the ego lied again.

“I don’t believe in God,” said a reader who read a post I’ve yet to publish. “But I agree with God. It is a good piece of writing, and you didn’t write it.”

I didn’t, I thought. I was inspired. The writing came to me as it always does. Where it comes from, I don’t know.

“Me,” said God.

First, my friend Jess inspired me. We were exchanging emails, and he wrote something that sparked an idea.

“Me!” said the idea. “That was me!”

I sat at my computer, inspired. I wrote without thinking. The words of the first draft appeared. From time to time, I went back and read what had been written. Changes suggested themselves.

“Me!” said a change. “I was an improvement!”

“Me, too,” said another.

Little by little, the writing took its shape. I started with, “My life is over.” I ended with, “I’m living in the afterlife.” Those words were unexpected. But they were true.

Another section came. In it, I explored the afterlife. Truth followed truth. Other ideas appeared and wanted to be written. Some are in this post. Some are in the future.

Another section, and then this final one: the ego’s boast; and God’s reproof.

I keep revising this.

Postscript

It seems to be January 23, 2025, four days from the Bobbiversary. And now, when you read this, it will seem to be later. But that’s just how it seems. In Reality, it’s Now, and Now, and Now.

I’ve weathered another storm.

There will be storms to come. And I will weather them.

Heaven with Slower Internet seems to be a theme for me. Here’s a play that I wrote 12 or 13 years ago, that includes that idea.