You’re welcome. I want to thank you as well for sharing this message for it inspired me to _really_ consider strongly what I believe. I may get repetitive as some of these are new concepts to me and, well, I’m trying to figure this out as I type.
Until I wrote what I wrote yesterday, I wasn’t 100% sure. I sort of believed it, but I’ve been putting together the pieces of this puzzle for a while in a way that resonates with me.
I want to be able to stand behind that as being quite literally, a fact. And I feel I can.
Researching how the brain functions, taking an embodied cognition model (which works for me), and combining it with bits of computational models of the brain, and utilizing analogies to well-understood processes (like stitching fabric, or the way that words and music go through the phonological loop in the brain, or the way that memories form and strengthen in a non-static but a very active way… the way that what we know of people happens within us, as we analogize people to existing people we already know, while adding features that are unique to each, and their personalities and our knowledge of their ‘ways’ are what we speak to when we speak to them (we see the person in front of us while simultaneously seeing the person we know of them from within us)…
…when somebody passes, we still carry their song within us. We still carry the composer. We’ve been composing their music in a way we each comprehend based upon our own ‘ways’ and interpretations of them while they were alive, and although the nearly unbearable cognitive dissonance from expecting them to be here… and they’re not is emotionally crippling… yet we can still hear their voices. We can still hear them sing. We can ask their advice. They answer.
It’s not the same as them being here. But it almost can be, because from the moment you know something of someone, they live within you at some level. And the more you know someone, the more they live within you while they are alive. That process carries on, consciously or not, and each person we’ve ever known at some level, continually informs us.
It is one of the most beautiful aspects of how we’re put together.
So in a very literal, very real, very tangible, physical, cognitively viable, absolutely factual way, he lives on. We live in each other. For me, while it is poetic, it’s more than poetry. For me it’s past the nice things we often say to each other.
It’s part of my core belief system about the nature of things. It informs me about my own existence. Yours. Everybody’s.
And you’ve inspired me and helped me coalesce some of these ideas together in a way I would not have done on my own, had I not felt the want to attempt to do so for the betterment of my friend Heather, whose hurt informs my mirror neurons of my own hurts, causing me to empathize deeply and I want to resolve it somehow, with words that are as actual and supportive as I can.
It’s grown me. You have helped me and, in a very real way, although not bodily present, your friend has helped me grow. And I am grateful. It’s brought me a step closer to where I’ve been wanting to go.
My thoughts and feelings about life, death and what happens are more clear now than they were before.