AMKent books

“The grave is but a covered bridge, leading from light to light, through a brief darkness” – Longfellow

Returning To the Womb

Imagine a life in reverse, something akin to ‘Times Arrow’ by Amis. You rise from the hospital bed, your body collects itself in the flames from ash, the essence is drawn in through your now first inhale. The grave returns to unmarred stone and unsoiled ground, you know everything from the start. Much like Laplace’s demon, knowing the entire past, you are now able to predict the entire future. Maybe the deities the sapiens have worshipped formed in a similar manner, their death was life. To return to the womb from whence they came was their final destination. This is our knowing of death, our three-dimensional finality. So, what if we were more? A fourth-dimensional being, what is death to us now? It is no longer linear, what is the aging entropic hand of time if it no longer strokes the soul in a direction? Perception, the end of us, is now a metamorphosis, a spectre that can exist in both its day of death and day of life. You would not be a body in the human sense, maybe an abstract, a quantum leap of the soul into a macro reconfiguration. Our sense of time is an illusion, time exists all at once, this is what the fourth dimension brings to us, all of time at once, a singularity. There is no longer an experience tied to death, it is merely a signpost, a cinder that never burns out and endlessly swirls above a frozen fire. If time is no longer linear, no longer forward, then we too must exist at both our day of birth and day of death? A thread of what we are, as long as what we were, the head and the foot are far away from one another, but we do not perceive them in different spacetime.

The Taste and Sound of Death

Maybe my paradigm on the soul is right, and in our transcendence to the fourth dimension we are stored, like a book in a library, the cosmic archive of data. Let’s take the hand of death and let it lead us higher still, the fifth dimension. Here the outcomes of existence begin to branch, a multiverse, polylives we shall call it. Now we are all our possible deaths, and our possible lives, the tragic, the bittersweet, the happy, the peaceful, the painful, the indifferent. Parallel deaths and lives dance an infinite waltz, you are the window of reality and every shard that it breaks into when entropy hits. You feel it all, really think about it, not just all the lifetime you have lived now, but every single one that could be. You are a cosmic soup, the bowl that now houses you is infinite infinities, you are every ingredient that you could ever be. I wonder how we would taste. To find out the answer to such a ludicrous question, we must let death hoist us up to another branch, the sixth dimension. Now we are not just the infinite possibilities within the infinite universe, we have become the infinite possibilities in an infinite number of universes. Truly, we are being drunk on existence, we know every death, we feel every life. Our new body is more akin to an instrument that can be all instruments, capable of every note that ever was and will be. How does death sound? It would sound like an infinite note, echoing into infinity, distorting endlessly against the walls of all possibilities. Max Tegmark would finally find out if the sixth dimension truly did contain all mathematical structures. At this point, we would become a cycle, a Nietzschean eternal return, the feedback loop of God to God.

Death No Longer Exists; Death is All That Exists

The branches go higher still, and the more death helps you reach them on our tree of all, the more death turns to sand at the bottom of the hourglass our tree is encapsulated in. seventh, contradictions exist together, both what can and what cannot exist regardless of cohesion, death and immortality, life and void, light and dark. You are a blueprint for all that a mortal can be, filtered down through the branches like light through leaves, finally casting yourself upon its one-dimensional roots. With our journey of death reaching its end, I ask you, what does it truly mean to die?