I’m living in the afterlife—a place a lot like Heaven, but with slower internet.

I have no reputation to protect, no secrets to keep. All sins have been forgiven.

I have nothing that I need to accomplish. And yet, there are things to be done.

I have a wife who I love and who loves me. The year I wrote this, we celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary and our 53rd cohabiversary. She’s my best friend. She knows my every success and failure, knows every secret I might have ever wanted to keep from the world. She loves me nonetheless.

We have three amazing daughters. They have each found a wonderful man to marry. I have given each one Family Tenure and call son, not son-in-law—although it confuses people.

Our girls—now women—saw in their mother the mom they aspired to be. They’ve each achieved that goal, and each surpassed it in their way.

We have seven grandkids, each an individual, each—even the littlest ones—uncommonly independent and creative—like their mothers. Like their fathers.

Once self-estranged from my family-of-birth, I am newly on a loving quest with my brother and another with my sis. We are healing what is past. Others in the family join us.

I have a few friends, and I cherish the friendship of each. I don’t communicate with any of them as much as I would like. If you are one of my friends and you have not heard from me lately, I love you. If you’re not sure whether you are my friend, you probably are, and I love you.

My life is a collection of good examples and cautionary tales. I’ve recorded some in this blog. More will come.

I tell stories of the mistakes I have made and stories of the corrections I have discovered. As I have written: mistakes are the only route to knowledge—even for God. I’ve made and recorded mistakes so that you don’t have to make them. But it’s okay if you do.

My mundane life is over. I’m living in the afterlife.

In the afterlife

Forgiveness has opened the door to the part of the afterlife where I make my home. Most of the time, it’s like Heaven, but sometimes it’s like “The Good Place.” I’m always when what was wonderful turns to shit in an instant. But I’ve learned to spend less and less time in the shit and more and more in Paradise.

Resentfulness, judgment, and criticism are among my lifelong bad habits. Sometimes, without being aware, I do what I have practiced for years. A mean thought. A curled lip. And just like that, I’m in a place like hell, in an evil dream. When I wake, I realize what I’ve done. I forgive myself and forgive what I had dreamed deserved contempt. And then I’m home again.

Each one who suffers lives in their own hell, a hell of self-design. The afterlife includes not one hell but many, each custom-made.

I’ve got a couple of my own that I visit from time to time.

No one is condemned

No one is condemned to hell; we each choose hell by choosing guilt, resentment, hopelessness, bitterness, and revenge over love.

There are only two choices—fear and love. Choose fear, and the door to hell stands open.

I have friends who spend time in their private hells and are convinced there’s no way out.

No matter what’s happened to me, I’ve always had hope. All things pass.

There was a time when I’d exhort friends who were hopeless to “get out of it”—because I always knew I could.

And worse, I’d get angry at them for not taking my excellent advice and “pulling me down.”

I don’t do that anymore. I do not know what’s right for anyone else.

I know what’s right for me: love, forgiveness, faith, and hope.

I recommend it to others to reaffirm what’s right for me, not because it’s right for them. It might be. It might not. I don’t know.

If a friend wants me to keep them company in hell, I am happy to abide by them.

I’ll keep telling them I love them.

If they do not want me, I will wait until they do.

Forgiveness

Forgiveness is why my afterlife is more like heaven and less like hell.

I’ve learned that to forgive another is to forgive myself, and to forgive myself is to forgive the world.

I’ve forgiven every error, omission, mistake, offense, shortcoming, trespass, transgression, wrongdoing, and sin I remember. Sometimes new ones come to mind; I forgive them, usually quickly. Sometimes I make a new mistake that needs forgiveness. I forgive, and I am forgiven.

I don’t believe in God, and the God that I don’t believe in is the best and most loving parent imaginable. God has forgiven me for everything. The God I don’t believe in is omniscient and has forgiven me for things I don’t yet remember and things I have yet to do.

Forgiven, I do not withhold forgiveness from anyone for anything. I have been given more forgiveness than I need. Why not share the wealth? What possible good would come if I withheld forgiveness from one in need?

I do not call myself a Christian, but I try to follow Jesus’ radical teachings:

I believe in love. As Paul says:

Adolf Hitler was once a sweet child—as are all children. But, the world is full of bad teachers. Some taught little Adolf fear instead of love. He followed the wrong teachers because he knew no better; he learned the wrong lessons because he was not taught the right ones—or he was told, and not taught, too late.

I forgive the teachers who taught Adolf Hitler. I forgive the world that elevated those teachers to positions of authority. I forgive those who taught little Adolf’s teachers the lessons they taught little Adolf.

I forgive Adolf Hitler.

I forgive Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. and every other person some people have been taught to hate.

And so the God who I don’t believe in, with whom I speak forgives us all.

Good examples and cautionary tales

My life is a collection of good examples and cautionary tales.

Among the good examples are the times I have forgiven; among the cautionary tales are times I’ve nurtured resentment and refused to forgive.

If you want forgiveness and you can’t forgive yourself, you can ask a God that you believe in to forgive you. If you don’t believe in God ask one you don’t belive in. If forgiveness does not come, choose another God.

Believe that which is helpful. Or don’t believe in anything and just do what works.

We only have two choices: love and fear. To forgive is to choose with love; to choose with love is to forgive. To choose not to forgive is to choose with fear.

Sometimes fear comes to me, and I choose it before I realize I had a choice. Choosing fear is but a bad habit. And habits can be changed.

I work to face my fears, replacing them with love. I forgive.

Nasty moments

It’s not all rainbows and unicorns.

The ego does not give up easily.

I have moments when I judge. I criticize when I’m frustrated, irritated, or annoyed.

“He sucks, she sucks, they suck,” says ego, “and so do you.” And momentarily, I’m in hell.

“Forgive,” says the voice of the God I don’t believe in. Or my own remembered voice.

“I forgive,” I say.

I forgive myself for impatience, intolerance, arrogance, and a host of synonyms. I forgive the errors of the people around me. And just like that, I look and find I’m home.

The best thing I’ve ever written

“This is the best thing I’ve ever written,” I thought. Or I thought that I had thought.

“You didn’t think that,” God said. “That’s your ego thinking for you. It’s a good piece of writing, but it came to you. It was inspired. You didn’t write it. Gratitude, not pride, is what’s deserved.”

“It wasn’t me that thought that thought,” the ego lied. “It was you.” The ego always lies. “And this is you, thinking this, too,” the ego lied again.

“I don’t believe in God,” said a reader who read a post I’ve yet to publish. “But I agree with God. It is a good piece of writing, and you didn’t write it.”

I didn’t, I thought. I was inspired. The writing came to me as it always does. Where it comes from, I don’t know.

“Me,” said God.

First, my friend Jess inspired me. We were exchanging emails, and he wrote something that sparked an idea.

“Me!” said the idea. “That was me!”

I sat at my computer, inspired. I wrote without thinking. The words of the first draft appeared. From time to time, I went back and read what had been written. Changes suggested themselves.

“Me!” said a change. “I was an improvement!”

“Me, too,” said another.

Little by little, the writing took its shape. I started with, “My life is over.” I ended with, “I’m living in the afterlife.” Those words were unexpected. But they were true.

Another section came. In it, I explored the afterlife. Truth followed truth. Other ideas appeared and wanted to be written. Some are in this post. Some are in the future.

Another section, and then this final one: the ego’s boast; and God’s reproof.

And as it comes, the subscribe button for those not subscribed.

“Subscribe now!” says the ego. “Raise the subscriber count. Raise the page views.”

“Share this!” says the ego.

“Choose Love,” says God.