By Fred Owens
When I Die...
When I die I'm going where Stephen Hawking went when he died.
I'm sure of that. I'm not sure where Stephen Hawking went when he died, but I'm going there too.
Hawking
kept God out of his masterpiece of theoretical physics. There was
simply no time for theological speculation. Religion encourages fuzzy
thinking. You pick up the book, you read the book, and it's all
explained. There is no need to figure it out yourself.
All of cosmology is explained in the first verse of the Bible. "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth."
Done.
That's all you need. All I need. I have other problems beside a need to
ponder the origins of the universe. Like today, because of my gardening
work, I am figuring out how to transplant and revitalize a woody, old
hydrangea that blooms, but poorly, next to the mailbox at the Child's
Play Pre-School on San Andres St. in Santa Barbara.
I felt
a rosy cosmic glow when Hawking died. A comet swooped down from the
heavens and picked him up for a wild ride. I didn't just imagine that.
It's what happened.
You don't need to believe in God to
get into heaven. This is a little known fact. That's where Hawking went,
to heaven, I think. I'm really not sure about these things. Maybe
there's an especially lovely place for atheistic physicists who are kind
to cats.
I was taught about heaven in Catholic grade
school. It was somewhere up in the sky, on puffy white clouds. I was not
inspired. It didn't seem like any fun.
I gave up any
thought of heaven when I got older. The only reward for being good is
that it makes you feel good, but you don't rack up any credit for your
good deeds, not in this world.
Ten years ago I came up with
a renewed vision of heaven that had some appeal. Heaven is a place just
like earth only less aggravating. This was heaven as designed by Fred
Owens, because I like it here. I would rather live on earth than any
place that I can imagine, so how could it be a reward if I had to leave.
Die, yes, that can't be avoided, But leave, no, why leave? Earth is a
good place, although it can be aggravating.
That was the
beauty of my vision of heaven. You still had to stand in line at the
bank, but the line was shorter and the people in line were friendly. You
still had to swat mosquitoes when you went camping, but not so many as
to drive you crazy. You still got into arguments with friends and with
foes, but the arguments were over consequential matters.
You
still had suffering and death, but you had steadfast friends and family
to get through it. You had meaning. It made sense. This earthly heaven
was far better than the random cruelty in our lives, but it still hurt
when you stubbed your toe.
That was my vision of the
after life until earlier this week when Stephen Hawking died, when I
decided that what I really, really want is to go wherever he went. And
if he evaporated into nothing, then Me Too.
However
that does not make me an atheist. God is too important to put aside --
for me, that is. Hawking could not permit God-thoughts to infiltrate his
research.
But he was a scientist, I am a story
teller. And this points out the weakness of science, which can explain
almost everything, but cannot tell even the simplest story.
You
gotta believe or there's no story. I spent most of January reading the
Iliad, the ancient story of Achilles and the Trojan War. Achilles, the
great warrior and hero of the story, was born of Thetis a Nymph of the
Sea. She was a goddess who lived under the waves. Her father was Zeus
who rattled thunderbolts from atop Mount Olympus.
That was real. Maybe not real to Stephen Hawking, but real to me.
I don't ponder the great theological questions, like if God exists and if He is good, why does He permit such great evil?
I don't spend time with that on my mind. I just don't know.
I
salute Hawking's effort to find a scientific explanation for the
origins of the universe. And he knew himself that his own life was a
story. He was a legend in his time, if there is such a thing as time.
Send me your Manuscripts.
Send
me your text files of memoirs and stories and poems. What are you
writing? I want to see it. It might be very good. It might need a lot of
work.
Two Frog Hospital readers sent me drafts of
their memoirs. One was very good and only needed to be tightened up. The
writer found my comments to be useful. The other text needs quite an
overhaul, but I liked the story. The writer and I are discussing some
kind of deal.
There will be a fee for this editorial
review in the future, but right now it's free. I figure I need to get my
chops before I start charging for the service.
But this could be fun......
take care,
Fred
--
Fred Owens
cell: 360-739-0214
My gardening blog is
Fred Owens
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