I was a young woman when the serious lessons began. After my time of Rumspringa – or in my case, running away from God.
Not long after I was hunted down and recaptured.
Well, it wasn’t that dramatic. But it adds a nice flourish to the story, don’t you think?
It didn’t take me long to realize that the lessons weren’t like lessons in school: lessons I could apply myself to and learn easily and with a little time and effort.
We’ll leave geometry out of the above equation.
But, in spite of needing infinite time, patience, and the willingness to actually apply myself to these lessons, they just kept coming.
The Lesson of Silence….
The Meaning of Patience….
The Lesson of Six….
The Lesson of Source and Orbit….
And on and on.
You get the drift.
So I didn’t really raise an eyebrow when along came The Last Lesson.
Last in terms of what? That it will be the last lesson I’m assigned?
Last lesson because the lessons lie on a line with a definite beginning and even more definite end?
Couldn’t say, really.
A few decades went by, and I wondered if the “last” in The Last Lesson referred to the fact that perhaps this was the last thing on a person’s mind. The answer to the last question we ask God.
Because, just perhaps, after we hear the answer, we won’t need to ask anything else.
If this is correct (and, just remember, I’m 100% wrong in thinking I understand anything that hasn’t been bashed into my head by God), then I think it’s short-sighted of God.
People will continue to ask questions, even if they are trivial or foolish.
Warm-up is over.
Let’s get down to the lesson.
The Last Lesson answers the question, Why are we here on Earth?
The skip-right-to-the-end answer is: To experience.
Out of body we don’t experience.
We have no mechanism to.
No nervous system.
What we are are essences of our souls.
Pure and simple.
And this energy blends in with all the rest of the energy in the universe.
That’s a lot of energy.
That’s a lot of life current.
So all these stories of playing golf with Gandhi in Heaven, or meeting up with our great-aunt Emma are just stories.
We won’t be feasting in Heaven because we won’t be bringing our stomachs with us.
Neither will we be bringing our emotions.
Not even our thought that our neighbor keeps a messy garden.
That is right and accurate.
Nevertheless, we plan our “trip” to Heaven: what we will bring, what we will leave behind. All that.
It’s like packing up our entire household into a moving van, and then thinking we are going to take all that stuff with us when we climb Mount Everest.
That happens to be a perfect simile.
The other thing we get massively wrong about God is that he frets about whether we are alive or dead.
Just look around the world. Do you see any evidence of this?
God Is Absolute.
All that is here on Earth is encompassed by God.
And why would God care if we died or if we lived? It’s all the same to him.
And diseases and wars and fatal accidents are just the means of our transition from life to death.
That’s what we were put here for: to live and then (you guessed it) to die.
The experiencing that we are supposed to be doing isn’t supposed to be an eternal thing. It’s just so we can shape the rest of the energy in the universe.
We keep discovering new things and figuring out how things go together (and how some things don’t go together).
We play with the taste of food.
With the sound of music.
With movement and expressions of all kinds.
With the mechanics of the Earth.
With suffering and with joy.
So, you say (very logically, I might add), what?
We’re here to experience, like we’ve been sent off to summer camp and no matter how good or bad the experience is for us, our parents will be overjoyed that they didn’t have to come pick us up early, will slap us on our backs and tell us, You will look back on this one day and see what a great time you had.
Kicked out of Heaven, FOR AN EXPERIENCE?
As I said, very logically asked.
But there’s a trick to this lesson.
Deep in its heart, there’s a secret.
And only those who allow themselves to experience this will understand.
We are here to experience romantic love.
I have figured out my definition of romantic love:
Love is a tangle of sighs.
I realized that it works just as well backside-front:
Love is a sigh of tangles.
But here’s the deal.
Love gives us the only true door through which we can pass and experience eternity.
See that? See what the lesson does right there?
It shows that our ultimate experience here on Earth is finding our way to experience eternity.
Here on Earth.
And to learn that life is all that is before us. And around us. And behind us.
That there is no edge to us. No limit.
We tend to run into the sides of our brain when we try to think about eternity.
That’s because eternity isn’t a thought. It’s not a concept.
It’s an experience.
See what I did there?
Eternity is THE experience on Earth.
(Sounds like God to me: Come to Earth. Figure out how to experience that which includes Earth but just happens to include everything else in the universe.
So how do we accomplish this, and what do we do when we’ve experienced the experience of eternity?
Well, I guess we’ll just have to keep hunting for the door to eternity and see if we find an answer on the other side of it.
Of, find out that there are no more answers, because there really are no more questions in eternity.