What Comes After?

It might seem strange to begin a discussion of the afterlife with A Wrinkle in Time, but for me the book was incredibly formative. I was 11 years old when it was published and was lucky enough to read it shortly after publication. I remember very little of the story (which obviously wasn't that earth-shaking for me) but the idea of tessering blew my mind: "essentially the act of traveling faster than the speed of light using a fifth dimension. ... You add that to the other four dimensions and you can travel through space without having to go the long way around." The idea that there were other worlds, that time isn't linear, that alternative ways to approach reality are possible -- just wow!  To this day, I'm fascinated by stories on the page or in film that break the barriers of time, space, or both.

Fast forward to 1989 and another book that has stayed with me, The Boat of a Million Years by Poul Anderson. It gave solidity to my notion that "after," we will be able to see across the expanse of history, understand what happened and why, and ask questions of whatever designer put it all together. I remember attending a confirmation class with our younger daughter. The facilitator asked each of us to describe heaven (assuming, of course, that we all believed in heaven). People waxed poetic about fluffy clouds and angels, beautiful pastures, seeing deceased loved ones. When my turn came, I simply said that heaven would mean getting the answers to life's unanswerable questions.

And that brings me to today and the source of these meanderings about what comes after. I recently read (and loved) The Sentence by Louise Erdrich, which prominently features the ghost of a beloved and irritating book store customer. My treadmill podcast for today was a conversation between Erdrich and Kerri Miller, an outstanding interviewer on our local public radio station, MPR. They had a lengthy, delightful, and funny conversation about ghosts, angels, and being haunted.  I remain skeptical but... as Erdrich pointed off, we often say "(fill in your favorite deceased relative) would be so happy if she saw us having so much fun ... or so much success." And of course, we say "Grandpa X would turn over in his grave if he saw this."

Ultimately, I don't long for immortality. I just long to see more, know more, understand more -- to be able to bridge space and time. In the party game where you ask everyone to name the super power they would love, I rarely hesitate -- Beam Me Up, Scotty.