Everybody wants to go to heaven..

..but nobody wants to die.

I’ve never been afraid of dying, never been afraid of death.
As I understand it, it’s a perfectly safe procedure with three steps.
You’re living. You’re dying. You’re dead.

Then on you go. At least, I do.
And now that she does, and she’ll be there, I’m entirely happy.
I try not to sound eager, it upsets the kids.
Upsets my parents too. But then, they think they’re closer to it than I am. They forget that I’ve been up close several times and had a good long look at it.

When Catherine died they had nothing to say, not really. It was all much too much in their minds that they’re aging; graying hair and slipping memories; ‘senior moments’ my mother calls them. And they both dread the imminent parting. Who goes first? Who’s left bereft and alone to struggle with two people’s worth of grief after sixty years and more? They miss the immanence in the imminent, the Jewel in the Lotus.

Nothing dies really. Everything changes, but the only important thing is whether that particular multi-dimensional point of reference in the universe; your personal, individual consciousness, the You that you are without your clothes on, disappears.

And it doesn’t have to.

That’s what the whole ‘and thou shall have eternal life’ bit in the Christ stuff is all about. I mean, the whole cloud-walking, ‘Hey, St Peter,’ pearly gates and harp-playing thing is pretty average marketing by twenty-first century standards. But the basic point is this. If you connect yourself to the big eternal consciousness of God, you don’t die anymore than it does. The tricky thing is remembering who you are and not just dissolving in the bliss; not that there’s anything wrong with that, I’m sure.

But if you do want You to survive after you’ve dropped the dust-suit you have to make the effort while you’re still in it. Personality won’t do it. You’ll have to do better than that. Individuation, the full technical meaning, is the very least you’ll need just to make a start. Unique is the watchword. You have to be absolutely unique. A clear and perfect lens through which the universe observes itself unfolding. And remembers which pants you left your keys in.

And there’s been a whole lotta people done a whole lotta things before you.
So you’re going to have work hard for Unique.

Luckily it’s a niche market. Idiosyncrasies are encouraged. As are individual contracts. That’s the point of this particular millennium. You can work your own passage to the hereafter, if you know what you’re doing. And you do have to know what you’re doing, oh yes. The big flooding tide of the millennium has washed up all sorts of lunatics and laptop-messiahs who think that they’re Christ, or the Paraclete, or this years Holy Joe with a direct line to the stars. You are advised to avoid these people. If they really know what they are doing they should be spending their time doing it, not trying to convince the gullible and giddy to join in some sad little go-nowhere scheme. Starting a new church isn’t necessary, although building a good library never hurts.

Avoid cults. Can’t put it any plainer than that.
Would you trust Amway to sell your soul to God?

Presumably there’s an infinite number of ways to cement the deal in an infinitely varied universe. I’ll let the physicists do the math on that, it’s never been my strong suit. But immortality is available. You can get it wholesale through a number of large religious organisations if that’s what works for you. Check that they promote peace, let women hog the remote, and have been around for at least a thousand years without becoming decadent to the point of pederasty. Anything less you can regard as unproven. And remember that religion is theory. Magic, even if it’s as simple as prayer or meditation, is practice. And only practice makes the perfecti.

But bespoke tailored immortality is the new model, coined fresh for this millennium. All it costs is everything you’ve got and a bit more. Which is why I work with Catherine. Between the two of us we have room for us all, my Merlin and I. But then, we’re playing for keeps. For always and ever, worlds without end. And we have a lotta laughs and plant some trees along the way.

Why is it harder for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven than for a dromedary to hem trousers? Because the rich man isn’t working on the stuff that immortality is made of. Fame and a big bankroll won’t do it. And God isn’t there to give you what you want. Unless what you want is what he’s got to give. But God, as the saying goes, is a broad church. Which is where Aristeas came in. And where he goes out.

Regards, Aristeas.