There has been a great deal of speculation about what comes next after death, whether it be an afterlife, heaven and hell, reincarnation, or whatever else falls under the grand spectrum of belief. Today, however, I would like to focus on the tangible ideas of what occurs after death, and the value of our memory, and all that it entails (in my perspective.)

It’s safe to say we’ve all pondered death before and considered and explored all avenues as to what that might mean, and I would like to share with you some thoughts I’ve had throughout the years.

When I was just a child, I used to wonder who might mourn me after I’ve departed from the flesh I reside in. The longer I considered this idea, the more guilty I felt about it. I thought I was being selfish by setting up an expectation that I should be missed. This guilt was derived from two things. One – my desire to be as purely good as I was possibly capable, and two – it came from sadness, as I was struggling to form meaningful relationships with my peers at school. I’ve learned since that it is okay for me to be loved enough to be missed someday – that I deserve it and I should not feel like I’m tarnishing my ego in believing so.

Tied along closely with who might miss you after you’ve gone is what you might leave behind. My first opinion was “who cares? I’ll be dead.” This perspective was derivative of my ego. I was interested more in the impact I might have in the now, desiring to absorb the recognition of my efforts. I wanted to be aware of the effects I fed into the world, and more honestly, I wanted to be praised for them. Once I am dead, I lose all opportunity to know how I might have changed a perspective or uplifted a soul, and I saw any influence I had that I didn’t know about as almost a waste. Perhaps this is where I should have grown concerned about being selfish.

Later, I wondered how long I would be remembered for. My instinct desire was to never have my memory fade away completely. This idea was forged in my insecurity. I thought that if I could somehow be placed under a big enough spotlight, if I could create something that would go viral – something that provoked fondness and therefore, have reason to continue to trend, then I could stand my best chance of having my memory outlive me by longer than the following generations in my family could manage. I wanted to be remembered simply because the idea of being forgotten terrified me. The idea that all my thoughts and ponders, all my experiences and adventures, my mannerisms, and most gut wrenching – my imagination could all one day cease to exist. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would all be for if one day, it could be as if none of it ever happened at all. The magic in my mind is so valuable to me that the idea that it could just … not matter, well that chilled me to my very core.

Where do I land now? Well, Bon Jovi put it best:

“I just want to live while I’m alive.”

Let me explain. I’ve realized in my twenty-six years that I don’t believe in any of the intangible ideas of what may occur after we’ve departed. I am not, nor will I ever be, bold enough to outright deny the possibility of any idea’s truth, but for me, what might come next doesn’t hold enough substance for me to pay any mind to – not while I have the opportunity to appreciate and utilize all that I have now. Thinking in that way helped me realize just how much life in whole had to offer me, and in turn – figuring out why I felt so strongly about needing to live while I’m here, helped me discover what I think happens after I die.

I value adventure, imagination, and relationship, and those all gift me quality of life when I take advantage of opportunity to experience, but among my values, one of the most pressing for me is the burning desire for everyone to find their reason for living while they are alive. Sometimes, I struggle with a fiery aggravation inside of me when I see someone else defeated and I know they have it within themselves to create bliss, contentment, and vibrancy. In every feasible definition of the word, I am ambitious when it comes to wanting the best for everyone else. Giving reason for purpose is my strongest driving force and while I’m not entirely sure I’m capable of all I wish to accomplish, I know that for as long as I’m alive, I must try.

I have spent an abundance of time contemplating happiness. I believe utterly that change in the world starts in the individual – in every individual. I believe utterly that if I, or… anyone, could just – encourage everyone to value themselves, if I could ignite the drive for someone to try, if I could create a map to follow… I think that the more people that fight for themselves; to be the version of themselves that they love the most and are the most proud of, then the world withstands its best chance of becoming the better place we all tend to long for.

I think that the best way to break the cyclical nature of history is by creating something impactful enough that the generations to come will want it to be something to remember. Something impactful enough that it resonates and is substantial enough to be vastly valued. Something impactful enough that it wedges itself into repeated history, and that it can be easily recalled when someone, somewhere, finds themselves tempted to stray into darkness.

All this to say, I think that what we do with our time while we’re alive directly impacts what happens after death. When I wonder why “history repeats itself” is often said in negative connotation, I realize that not enough good has bled through the gears of old habits. Humans are easily tricked into darkness, and every generation is a new, clean slate. We choose what we teach, and they choose what they absorb. We chose what we absorbed, too – and those before us chose what they wanted to teach us. That’s where the repeat happens.

When I die, I want to know that I’ve added to the trickle between the gears. I want to find a new way to teach, and I want to choose carefully how I absorb. If my ideas alone aren’t the right answer, perhaps they’ll be questioned. If they’re questioned enough, perhaps they’ll eventually lead to whatever the right answer may be – even if it’s generations down the line. People die when their bodies are no longer fit to keep them alive, but ideas only die when we stop talking about them. Ideas are far more adaptable and malleable than people, and that is what can potentially make an idea great.

Who cares how much credit I’m given, or how long I’m remembered for? What happens after I die? Well, hopefully, eventually… a flood.