Dubito, Ergo Sum

Mid-morning today, i don't know what brought on the memory of Taylor telling me the chances of us coming back as humans in the next life are as slim as a tortoise swimming across the ocean on its back. Or something like that. (When i first heard it, i thought, tortoises don't do back strokes?)

Today, in a bitter moment, i thought: I don't want to come back human and go through this nonsense all over again. I don't want to transcend to nirvana either. I want to cease to exist.

As soon as i said that in my head, my heart started racing. "Ssshhh!!!" Another voice hushed. "You don't mean that! Take it back!"

The idea of ceasing to exist is unfathomable. It's hard to accept that this thing we call consciousness might end. I choose to believe those stories of floating in the ceiling peering back down at one's body are true. Because not believing is unbearable.

How do you define consciousness anyway? It lies not in brain activity or heartbeat or respiration alone.

Being John Malkovich came to mind. (Who's in my head now?) Next: MIB. I felt like a little alien navigating this body as my arm reached for my mug of coffee, veering meticulously with complex control panels, looking through these one-way mirrors we call eyes.