Observatio

I’ve just read a short column about what happens to us when we die, theoretically. It seems a pretty good time to contemplate such meaty stuff, since my father died three weeks ago. Where he is, how he experiences his being, if at all, and whether his consciousness has survived intact are all on my mind. If there is an overriding justice in the universe, though, he has probably returned as a little black baby in Detroit.

The column -- I forget where I saw it -- tied the idea of consciousness to Einstein’s theory of relativity, which makes sense in a way. If time and space depend upon an observer, then the absence of the observer implies the obliteration of time and space. The writer said that time “reboots” at our death, though I’m not quite sure what he means by that. Sounds like a nod toward reincarnation, because if time reboots it means there must be a new subjective observer. In that sense, time begins when we’re born, or when we start to perceive the world as a subjective observer, and ends when we die. It is easy to imagine, along with a million other possibilities, that “I” will inhabit another consciousness after this one fades away -- a new one, or maybe even an older one embedded in another time. Who knows? All I know for sure is that it’s impossible to experience nothingness, so either my ability to experience at all comes to an end when I die, or “consciousness” is somehow renewed. It will be interesting to find out, though I’m happy to wait as long as possible for the news.

On the other hand, I’m pretty sure I had no consciousness prior to this life. Nothing comes right to mind. Maybe this life is my first appearance, or maybe, if time does reboot, the observer’s script is erased and there is nothing to be remembered of earlier struttings on the stage.

I’m willing to give Einstein the benefit of the doubt. He thought that the time-space bullpen we find ourselves waiting in -- the present -- is an illusion. That seems as realistic as anything I’ve heard on the subject.