- Religion and death
The one thing about religion and believing in God and life after death and all that jazz is that you can’t fake it. Wanna-be believers can pretend and play make-believe and try to delude their mind, but in their core-being they know it’s a fantasy and a fairy tale and a defensive block against the fear of death. And at the moment of impact it will vanish like candy floss and they will be staring defenselessly into the ugly mug of the Grim Reaper. In the next millisecond it won’t matter a damn what they believed or pretended to believe because they will be unconscious in black nothingness.
One way to avoid all this fear, finagling and mayhem, is to be born or raised Catholic or Baptist or some other bona fide religion and be, or become a confirmed believer, even a fundamentalist if you need to go that far. But again, this is also something that you can’t fake. You have to be born with that mindset or somehow get it drilled into your brain so fully that your faith becomes an unshakable part of your psyche.
If you’re unlucky enough to be born in a religious void and doomed from the outset, you can maybe overcome your brain’s rational mechanism and become, let’s say, a born-again Christian. But it has to be rooted in the depths of your heart and not in the fearful shallows of your mind.
In lieu of all this religious manipulation and sophistic shenanigans, however, there is an alternative approach to life and death, while you’re still alive, and certainly in the moments before death, and that is, simply, not to fear the Reaper.
Easier said than done, I know. My wife was raised Catholic, although not a practicing one, but even so, to some extent a believer. In death she was fearless, or acted like it. An enviable asset to have when taking on the Grim Reaper.
Seasons don’t fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain, we can be like they are
Come on baby, don’t fear the reaper