You were on your way home when you died.
You had a car accident. It wasn’t who knows what, but it was fatal. You had a wife and two children. You died without pain. The doctors tried hard to save you, but without success. Your body was simply crumbled; better that you died, believe me.
And after you died, you met me.
“What… did it happen?” you asked. “Where am I?”
“You’re dead,” I replied bluntly. There was no point in picking you up.
“It was…. a truck… and I began to skid…..”
“Mm … yes,” I said.
“I….. am I dead?”
“Yes. But don’t be upset. Everyone dies,” I replied.
You looked through the foreboding. There was absolutely nothing. Only you and me.
“What is that?” you asked. “Is that the afterlife?”
“Yes and no, ” I replied.
“Who are you, God?” you asked.
“Yes, I am God.” I replied.
“My children…. and my wife……” you started saying.
“What’s up with them?”
“Is it going to be okay?”
“Come on I saw this one too,” I said. “You just died and you are interested in your family. Awesome.”
You looked at me with fascination. You didn’t see me as God. You saw me as a man or woman of any kind. Maybe with a bit of authority. You saw me more as a grammar teacher than as the Almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I told you. “They’re going to do it. Children will only remember the good moments spent with you. Your wife will weep with tears, but she will be released. To be honest, your marriage wasn’t going that well. As a consolation, know that your wife will feel guilty about believing herself to be released.”
“Aha,” you said. “And … what’s going on now? I go to Heaven, or to Hell, or what….?”
“None,” I replied. “You will be re-incarnated.”
“Oh, the Indians were right,” you said.
“All religions are right, in their own way,” I said. “Come on with me.”
“Where are we going?” you asked as we walked through the void together.
“Nowhere,” I replied. “But it’s nice to talk as you walk.”
“And then what’s the point?” you asked. “When I’m re-born, I’m going to forget everything, don’t I? Like a baby. All the experiences and everything I’ve done in this life won’t matter.”
“That’s not really the case,” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and all the experiences from your past lives. It’s just that you don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking, and I put my hands on your shoulders.
“You can’t even imagine how beautiful and magnificent and gigantic your soul is. The human mind can only contain a small piece of who you really are. It’s like sticking a finger in a glass of water to see if the water is hot or cold. You put a piece of yourself in the container, and when you take it back, you’ve accumulated all the experiences that that container has had.”
“You’ve been in this man for 48 years, so you didn’t have time to discover all your immense consciousness. If we stay around for a long time, you’ll remember about everything. But there’s no point in doing that between two lifetimes.”
“And then, how many lives have we lived?”
“Ah… many, countless many. And many different lives.” I replied. “Now I’m sending you to be a Chinese peasantry in the year 540.”
“Wait a minute… what do you say….?” you started to stutter. “Are you sending me back in time?”
“You guessed it. Time exists only in you in the universe. Things are different for me.”
“Yes… where are you from?” you asked.
“Oh, of course I’m from somewhere,” I replied. “From somewhere else. And there’s a lot like me. I’m sure you’d like to know everything, but honestly I’m telling you you’re not going to understand.”
“Ah…,” you said a little bitterly. “Get hold on like this. If I re-incarnate in another time, I could interact with myself from then on.”
“Of course. That’s always the case. And both of your lives are only self-aware; they don’t even realize each other, or what’s going on.”
“And then what’s their point?”
“Really?” I asked you. “Really seriously, you ask me what’s the point of life? Isn’t that a bit of a trivial question?”
“No, no, it’s a very serious question for me,” you persisted.
I looked into your eyes and said to you:
“The purpose of life, and the reason I made this universe, is for you to mature.”
“How do you mean, humanity? Do you want humanity to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe just for you. With every life you live, you grow and mature and become a greater intelligence.”
“Just me alone? And what about the rest of humanity?”
“There is no rest of humanity,” I replied.
“ In this universe are but the two of us, you and I.”
You looked at me with your gaze lost. “But the rest of the people on earth….”
“It’s all you. Different re-incarnations of yours.”
“Wait a minute. I am all people!?”
“Now you understand!” I said, and I patted you gently on the shoulder.
“I am every human being who has lived?”
“Or who will live, Yes.”
“I am Abraham Lincoln?”
“You’re at the same time Ceausescu,” I added.
“Am I Hitler?” you asked in horror.
“And you are also the millions of people that he killed.”
“Am I Jesus?”
“Yes, and you are all who followed him.”
You’re dumbfounded.
“How many times have you oppressed someone, you have oppressed yourself,” I told you. “How many times have you had compassion on someone, you have had compassion on yourself. Any happiness or sorrow that every man has had, or will have, will be your experiences.”
You sat and thought for a long time.
“Yes why?” you asked. “Why are you doing all this?”
“Because one day, you will be like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re like me. You’re my child.”
“What..!?” you said without faith. “Are you saying that I am a God?”
“No, not yet. You’re still small, and you’re still growing. But having lived all the human lives of all possible times, it means that you have grown enough to be born into my world.”
“So this whole universe, it is…..” you said.
“Just an egg.” I replied.
“Come on it’s time to send you into the next life.”
And I sent you.
