I’ve never been religious. I’d like to think I’m spiritual — I feel that there is more to life than just the carbon-based temporal existance (though I live like an existentialist). There are elements of religions that I like very much, such as the Quakers and some pagan things, and hell, the Catholics have beautiful art. I like ritual, I like ceremony — I got married, after all — but really, the non-demoninational sort suits me better.

That said, I find I’m craving an afterlife. I don’t want Milton’s Heaven (or his Hell, thankyouverymuch) or St. Augustine’s, or that crazy Margery Kempe’s, or Jerry Fallwell’s or anyone elses’. I don’t need white wings or fluffly clouds, or even a Divine Being other than the daily divinity I enjoy living on the Sunshine Coast. I actually think I’d prefer more of a Divine Democracy than any of the ‘God’ I have seen described.

What I do want, however, is to know that love continues on. I look at my husband and I feel as though I cannot bear it if something this special, this precious — this divine — ends when our carbon finally burns out of its oxygen-fueled fire.

This love is too much to be contained by our bodies. It has to continue.

It just has to.

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