When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
True confession: I’m in love with Keanu Reeves. Have been since Point Break. Every day a picture of him shows up in my Instagram feed. Bewhiskered, clean shaven, on his motorcycle, walking through an airport. Sometimes the clip comes up where Stephen Colbert asks him what do you think happens when we die. Keanu takes a deep breath then says, I know the ones who love us will miss us.
What do you think happens?
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Betsy Lerner 
I think we are at peace.
Keanu Reeves is my favorite-favorite-favorite and he acts like he doesn’t even know that I exist. His partner/wife is pretty cool, too. I want to hang out with them. Can you get me an invite into their world?
I’ve thought about it too much already, but I don’t know what happens to us after we die, or if we really do die, or if I really want to know what happens. So, if you know, don’t tell me yet. Maybe later. Right now I’m doing my best to concentrate on living.
“What death is––it’s a transfer, a reality transfer.”
Maybe you’d like to read some pages of my ms?
WHEN YOU ARE STRANGE
I think it’s just another door.
Yes.
Keanu is right.
Here’s where I go off the deep end.
Another writer friend of mine recommended I read this book when I was going through treatment, and she’s the sort of person, who, when making a recommendation, I tend to listen to . . .
So, I read it and while it’s a pretty heavy duty read, what I took from it is this; there is something else.
The title is What Is Reality?: The New Map of the Cosmos, Consciousness, and Existence, by Ervin Laszlo. (I know. The title alone.) Look him up and you’ll see his works. He’s a Hungarian philosopher of science and while his name is on the book, he had other contributors. Deepak Chopra wrote the Foreword, and Stanislav Grof the Introduction, the Dalai Lama is in there, and a bunch of other spiritual leaders, philosophers, scientists, etc.
Think about the people who have had near death experiences. (NDEs) While the book only uses one or two examples of those incidences, and the rest of it is pretty heavy on metaphysics, it says our brains, our consciousness goes on, and is a fragment of a larger source, and all are one.
It says so much more than that, but that is the essence.
Yes. Agree. Have the exact same experience, and what a great answer, right?
What happens to us? When we die? What do I think?
Without the active material substrate of our functioning body — most importantly, its brain — our immanent selves rapidly dissipate — evaporate, as it were — and we return to the unstructured oblivion from which we arose —
Leaving behind those who loved us and may miss us for the rest of their lives.
While the first part of what I believe is rational conclusion based upon scientific knowledge, the second part is truth I know through experience.
It could be good, it could be bad, or it could be nothing at all. I don’t know. All I know is that it’s bigger than me. I see that in the stars at night. I’m a believer, but faith is still a mystery.
“All I know is that it’s bigger than me.” I am not much of a believer in spiritual things, but this seems an interesting and positive approach to it all.
Before he died, my grandpa said, “If I don’t like, I’ll come back.” Haven’t seen him since.
Sorry, I’m a naysayer. I think the divine, the miracle, is now. And then we’ll be missed.
I’m one of those people who had a “near-death experience” while delivering my only child via an emergency C-section. In that quasi-haze of anesthesia, I heard the heart monitor’s single tone and the anesthesiologist say “I think we are losing her”. Then all sound stopped; I felt myself float upward within a total blackness. I was so sad and frustrated. A lurching tug, though, seemed to pull me backwards and soon the bright lights of the OR blazed through my eyelids. The marks on my chest were proof of the defrib-paddles’ work and the expression on the faces of the OR staff confirmed their distress, too. If ever there was a defining Life Moment, this peek within death was mine.
So what happens?
I am a little girl standing on the high-dive. I’m either shivering in the cold, or warm and comfy in the sun. My toes are hanging over the tip of the board. I bend my knees and the board flexes. Part of me is afraid. Part of me is exhilarated by what I will experience once my dive releases me from the scratchy non-skid surface beneath my feet. To be honest, right now, I’m not too keen to take the leap. But when the line behind me nudges me forward I will not simply jump.
I will fucking fly.
Hi great reading your poost