"Beatrice's Smile" and The Soul

timer Asked: Nov 26th, 2018
account_balance_wallet $25

Question description

you need to choose one of this questions and write a 450 words essay.

* the information must be substantial and accurate.

* i need the interpretation of the articles no just paraphrases.

- each question is related with one specific article.

Option #1

Why is the geographical location of heaven supposed to be an important issue in the Soul Narrative? Why is that issue such a tough one?

Option #2

This is something that has come up before: Do Trans-Humanism and Traditional Religion agree on the possibility of an un-embodied or disembodied personality? If so, why?

Option #3

What hurdles would purported evidence for a previous life, or lives, or for an After-Life have leap to be compelling?

the last resourse is https://aeon.co/essays/will-humans-be-around-in-a-...

On Survival Without A Body AS REGARDS UNEMBODIED survival, I would make the following remarks. The few Western philosophers in modern times who have troubled to discuss the question of survival seem generally to have taken for granted that the survival of a human personality would be equivalent to its persistence without any kind of physical organism. Some of them have proceeded to argue that the attempt to conceive a personal stream of experience, without a body as organ and centre of perception and action and as the source of a persistent background of bodily feeling, is an attempt to suppose something self-contradictory in principle or inconceivable when one comes down to detail. They have concluded that it is simply meaningless to talk of a human personality surviving the death of its body. Their opponents in this matter have striven to show that the supposition of a personal stream of experience, in the absence of any kind of associated organism, is self-consistent in principle and conceivable in detail. They have concluded that it is possible, at any rate in the sense of conceivable without inconsistency, that a human personality should survive the death of the body with which it has been associated. Now I have two comments to make on this. One concerns both parties, and the other concerns the second group of them. (a) Of all the hundreds of millions of human beings, in every age and clime, who have believed (or have talked or acted as if they believed) in human survival, hardly any have believed in unembodied survival. Hindus and Buddhists, e.g., believe in reincarnation in an ordinary human or animal body or occasionally in the non-physical body of some non-human rational being, such as a god or a demon. Christians (if they know their own business, which is not too common nowadays) believe in some kind of (unembodied?) persistence up to the General Resurrection, and in survival thereafter with a peculiar kind of supernatural body...correlated in some intimate and unique way with the animal body..., which has died and rotted away. Nor are such views confined to babes and sucklings. Spinoza, e.g., certainly believed in human immortality; and he cannot possibly have believed, on his general principles, in the existence of a mind without some kind of correlated bodily organism. Leibniz said explicitly that, if per impossibile a surviving mind were to be without an organism, it would be a "deserter from the general order." It seems to me rather futile for a modern philosopher to discuss the possibility of human survival on an assumption which would have been unhesitatingly rejected by almost everyone, lay or learned, who has ever claimed seriously to believe in it. (b) Suppose it could be shown that it is not inconceivable, either in principle or in detail, that there should be a personal stream of experience not associated with any kind of bodily organism. That would by no means be equivalent to showing that it is not inconceivable that the personality of a human being should survive, in an unembodied state, the death of his physical body. For such survival would require that a certain one such unembodied personal stream of experience stands to a certain one embodied personal stream of experience, associated with a human body now dead, in those peculiar and intimate relations which must hold if both are to count as successive segments of the stream of experience of one and the same person. Is it conceivable that the requisite continuity and similarity should hold between two successive strands of personal experience so radically different in nature as those two would seem prima facie to be? Granted that there might conceivably be unembodied persons, and that there certainly have been embodied persons who have died, it might still be quite inconceivable or C.D. Broad “On Survival Without a Body?” – page 1 of 2 overwhelmingly improbable that any of the former should be personally identical-with any of the latter. Speaking for myself, I find it more and more difficult, the more I try to go into concrete detail, to conceive of a person so unlike the only ones that I know anything about, and from whom my whole notion of personality is necessarily derived, as an unembodied person would inevitably be. He would have to perceive foreign things and events (if he did so at all) in some kind of clairvoyant way, without using special sense-organs, such as eyes and ears, and experiencing special sensations through their being stimulated from without He would have to act upon foreign things and persons (if he did so at all) in some kind of telekinetic way, without using limbs and without the characteristic feelings of stress, strain, etc., that come from the skin, the joints, and the muscles, when we use our limbs. He would have to communicate with other persons (if he did so at all) in some kind of telepathic way, without using vocal organs and emitting articulate sounds; and his conversations with himself (if he had any) would have to be conducted purely in imagery, without any help from incipient movements in the vocal organs and the sensations to which they give rise in persons like ourselves. his lifetime by any deceased human being as to constitute together the experiences of one and the same person. C. D. Broad from Lectures on Psychical Research (1962) All this is "conceivable," so long as one keeps it in the abstract; but, when I try to think "what it would be like" in concrete detail, I find that I have no clear and definite ideas. That incapacity of mine, even if it should be shared by most others, does not of course set any limit to what may in fact exist and happen in nature. But it does set a very definite limit to profitable speculation on these matters. And, if I cannot clearly conceive what it would be like to be an unembodied person, I find it almost incredible that the experiences of such a person (if such there could be) could be sufficiently continuous with those had in C.D. Broad “On Survival Without a Body?” – page 2 of 2
Is The Notion Of Disembodied Existence Intelligible? . . HUME ALLEGED THAT if two things, or qualities, A and B, always occur together, they can be imagined to occur separately (the one without the other), and it is a matter of empirical inquiry whether they do. As a general principle one could question this; can color occur without extension? can color occur without shape? But let us ask, in the present context, whether consciousness can occur without a body, even though all the instances of consciousness we are familiar with are related (causally or otherwise) to bodies. Try to imagine yourself without a body. Imagine thinking thoughts, having feelings and memories, and even having experiences of seeing, hearing, and so on without the sense organs that in this life are the empirically necessary conditions of having these experiences. Having eyes is one thing; seeing colors is another. Isn't it conceivable– whether or not it occurs in fact – to see colors even though you lack the sense organs which in your present life are the means by which you see colors? You go to bed one night and go to sleep, then awaken some hours later and see the sunlight streaming in the window, the clock pointing to eight, the mirror at the other side of the room; and you wonder what you will do today. Still in the bed, you look down where your body should be, but you do not see your body – the bedsheets and blankets are there, but there is no body under them. Startled, you look in the mirror, and see the reflection of the bed, the pillows, and blankets, and so on – but no you; at least there is no reflection of your face or body in the mirror. "Have I become invisible?" you ask yourself. Thinking of H. G. Wells' invisible man, who could be touched but not seen, you try to touch yourself; but there is nothing there to be touched. A person coming into the room would be unable to see or touch you, or to hear you either; a person could run his hands over the entire bed without ever coming in contact with a body. You are now thoroughly alarmed at the idea that no one will know you exist. You try to walk forward to the mirror, but you have no feet. You might find the objects near the mirror increasing in apparent size, just as if you were walking toward the mirror. These experiences might occur as before, the only difference being that there is no body that can move or be seen or touched. Now, have we succeeded in at least imagining existence without a body? Not quite. There are implicit references to body even in the above description. You see – with eyes? – no, you have no eyes, since you have no body. But let that pass for the moment; you have experiences similar to what you would have if you had eyes to see with. But how can you look toward the foot of the bed or toward the mirror? Isn't looking an activity that requires having a body? How can you look in one direction or another if you have no head to turn? And this isn't all; we said that you can't touch your body because there is no body there; how did you discover this? Did you reach out with your fingers to touch the bed? But you have no fingers, since you have no body. What would you touch (or try to touch) with? You move, or seem to move, toward the mirror – but what is it that moves or seems to move? Not your body, for again you have none. All.the same, things seem to get larger in front of you and smaller behind you, just as if you were moving. In front of and behind what? Your body? Your body seems to be involved in every activity we try to describe even though we have tried to imagine existing without it. Every step along the way is riddled with difficulties. It is not just that we are accustomed to think of people as having bodies and can't get out of the habit. This makes things more John Hospers: “Is the Notion of Disembodied Existence Intelligible?” – page 1 of 2 difficult, but it is only part of the problem. The fact is that you can't imagine doing things like looking in a different direction without turning your head, which is usually the result of a decision to do this – and of course you can't turn your head if you have no head to turn. If you decide to turn your head, you can't carry out this decision in the absence of a head, and so on. There seems to be a whole nest of difficulties – not merely technical but logicalcƒonstantly embedded in the attempted description. There is no necessary, conceptual, connection between the experience we call "seeing" and the processes that physiologists tell us happen in the eye and brain; the statement "James can still see, although his optic centers are destroyed," is very unlikely in inductive grounds but perfectly intelligible – after all, people used the word "see" long before they had any idea of things happening in the optic centers of the brain. It therefore appears to be clearly conceivable that seeing and other "sensuous" experiences might go on continuously even after death of the organism with which they are now associated, and that the inductive reasons for doubting whether this ever happens might be outweighed by the evidence of Psychical Research. I think it is an important conceptual inquiry to consider whether really disembodied seeing, hearing, pain, hunger, emotion, etc., are so clearly intelligible as is supposed in this common philosophical point of view. impunity; but if you break enough the whole web collapses – the concept becomes unusable. Just such a collapse happens, I believe, when we try to think of seeing, hearing, pain, emotion, etc., going on independently of a body. (from Peter Geach: Mental Acts.) There is a whole web of meaning-connections between perceiving and having a body; when we try to break all the connections we appear to be reduced to unintelligibility. But perhaps we used a bad example; perhaps we can imagine thinking, wondering, doubting, and so on (mental operations) taking place without a body. Where do these operations occur? They occur, one might say, in a mind; and a mind, unlike a brain, does not exist at any physical place. But what do you think about? Surely about a world that is not your mind. And what causes you to have the thoughts you do? Not a brain process, because you have no brain. And once again the description begins to be suspect. What is the you?... JOHN HOSPERS "The verb 'to see' has its meaning for me because I do see – I have that experience!" Nonsense. As well suppose that I can come to know what a minus quantity is by setting out to lose weight. What shows a man to have the concept seeing is not merely that he sees, but that he can take an intelligent part in our everyday use of the word "seeing." Our concept of sight has its life only in connection with a whole set of other concepts, some of them relating to the behavior of people who see things. (I express exercise of this concept in such utterances as, "I can't see, it's too far off – now it's coming into view!" "He couldn't see me, he didn't look round," "I caught his eye," etc. [T]he exercise of one concept is intertwined with the exercise of others; as with a spider's web, some connections may be broken with John Hospers: “Is the Notion of Disembodied Existence Intelligible?” – page 2 of 2
Is There Anything Beyond Death? A Parapsychologists Summation BELIEF IN SOME form of an afterlife can be found in every society known to us and, from the evidence of ceremonial burial practices, appears to go back to remote prehistoric times. Various psychological explanations for this fact have been advanced. We are the only species that understands that we are doomed to die and the idea of a life beyond the grave may be our brway of compensating for the menace of our mortality. Such an idea could derive substance from our dream life, because in our dreams we engage in diverse activities while our body lies prone on the bed. The fact, moreover, that it is impossible to imagine one's own total annihilation, because something must be left over to do the imagining, would reinforce such a belief. At a more sophisticated level, we have a tenacious belief in a just world. But, because the world we know contradicts this belief so flagrantly, it becomes necessary to invent a world where we do all ultimately receive our just deserts. At present, however, belief in an afterlife has been severely eroded by the advance of science, which reveals that the mind is so intimately dependent on the proper functioning of the brain that the very idea that we could, in some form, survive the destruction of our brain now strikes many educated people as so farfetched as to be no longer worth considering. Where such belief remains strong is among religious fundamentalists. All three main monotheistic religions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, teach the immortality of the soul. This is especially the case with Christianity because of the central position of the Resurrection in Christian doctrine. The faithful are promised a share in Jesus' own triumph over death or, as Paul puts it, "For, as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive."' It is not surprising, therefore, that where religion is still strong, belief in some form of survival is still prevalent. Thus, for the United States, Gallup puts the figure at around 70 percent as compared with Western Europe where it is a mere 43 percent, while within Europe itself it is strongest in countries like Ireland, where religion still counts (64 percent) and weakest in a nonreligious country like Denmark (26 percent). It is true that some modern Christian theologians, influenced by certain trends in modern philosophy, have discarded the notion of survival as they have discarded the miraculous element in religion generally. The basic argument here is that personal identity becomes meaningless without the body as one's point of reference. But the argument is questionable and, in my view, unsound. At all events, the reason so many people still cling to a belief in an afterlife is that this is what their religion teaches them. In what follows, however, I want to discuss not why people believe in an afterlife, but, rather, what empirical evidence there is that would justify such a belief. This brings us into the domain of psychical research. The Evidence I shall start by listing four broad categories of evidence. The first and oldest type of evidence involves the alleged manifestations of deceased individuals or what, in common parlance, would be called "ghosts." The second, and by far the most important evidentially, consists of communications, ostensibly from deceased entities, as purveyed by a medium. The third, which only recently has become a target for serious research, consists of evidence that persons now alive have had a previous life on earth. And the fourth, which is even more recent as a topic for research, involves the so-called near-death experience. This means that someone, after being pronounced clinically dead, is John Beloff: “Is There Anything Beyond Death?” – page 1 of 7 resuscitated and is then able to recall some special kind of experience during this critical interval, usually of an otherworldly kind. Let us now consider each of these in turn. 1. There can be no doubt that people do see apparitions and, in some instances, the apparition is so lifelike that it is only after it has disappeared that the observer realizes that it was not an actual person. There is also evidence of apparitions being seen collectively by more than one observer at the same time or by several observers independently on successive occasions. However, apart from the so-called crisis apparitions where it transpires that the person whose apparition was seen had just died, such manifestations rarely communicate any important information, contrary to what one might infer from fictional accounts of hauntings. It is more as if the places in question retain a sort of memory of their past inhabitants. One of the best attested ghost stories in the literature is that of the so-called Cheltenham ghost of 1885 in which the figure of a woman in black, thought to be a previous owner, was seen on many occasions by various witnesses. What makes that case more trustworthy than most is that the principal witness, Rosina Despard, the daughter of the current owner (known in the literature as Rose Morton), was then studying medicine and shortly afterwards become a practising doctor, a rare accomplishment for any woman of that period. 2. The mediumistic evidence is the legacy of the spiritualist movement, which erupted quite suddenly in 1848, in Upper New York State, but then within the course of just a few years spread to almost every country in the world and penetrated almost every stratum of society, although, in England at least, it was strongest among the upper working class which had turned its back on the established churches. The most common form of communication is a verbal message delivered by the medium in her own person. In the case of a so-called "trance medium," however, the, supposed communicator or some "spirit control" would speak in the first person using the vocal mechanisms of the medium or, in the case of a written communication, the medium's hand. In the early part of this century there were a number of remarkable women who practised such "automatic writing." They were not mediums in the professional sense, but were educated women who happened to be devotees of psychical research. If we go back to the early days of spiritualism we find that the phenomena were far more bizarre than anything we would nowadays associate with mediumship. The furniture and objects of the seance room would be moved about or even levitated, musical instruments would appear to play of their own accord, the spirit might speak directly from some point in the room rather than through the medium's mouth, or might inscribe a message direct onto a pad or slate without using the medium's hand. Most spectacular of all was the phenomenon of materialization in which the spirit would seek to manifest temporarily as a quasi-physical phantom, usually, it was thought, by extracting matter, or "ectoplasm," from the medium's body. A "full form materialization" was always a rarity but partial materializations of a hand or a face were common enough. I need hardly add that these florid physical phenomena were always the focus of intense suspicion and controversy. However, the whole fraught topic of physical mediumship, although of obvious interest to the student of the paranormal, is of dubious relevance to the question of survival; it was, in the end, the great trance mediums, such as Leonora Piper of Boston (whose career began in 1884 and who died in 1950), who provided the most telling evidence we have for the reality of survival. We shall come back to her later. John Beloff: “Is There Anything Beyond Death?” – page 2 of 7 3. But now let us turn to the evidence from past lives. Here we are no longer concerned with existence in some other world but, rather, with another life in this world. It has, of course, always been a feature of Hindu and Buddhist teachings that we are destined to be repeatedly reborn in this world unless we can escape eventually from this cycle of rebirths and enter Nirvana. No doubt belief in reincarnation in the West derives originally from this source. When we turn to the evidence, however, we find that it is of two kinds: (a) the ostensible memories of a past life that can be elicited under hypnosis, and (b) memories of a previous life that are occasionally reported spontaneously by young children. Hypnosis was already being used to elicit memories of past lives in the late nineteenth century and was part of a late flowering of the once powerful mesmeric movement. What gave it impetus in recent times, however, was the publication of the book by Morey Bernstein called The Search for Bridey Murphy. It tells of a housewife in Colorado, known in the book as Ruth Simmons, who, under hypnosis, recalls her life in nineteenthcentury Belfast. No one, however, has been able to trace the identity of this "Bridey Murphy" who, nevertheless, it must be said, showed a surprising knowledge of that place and period. In general, I would say that in all the cases reported so far that have been elicited under hypnosis, either there was no such person as the one described or the character in question could have been known to the informant who, in all innocence, might consciously be quite unaware of the source of this knowledge – a case of what psychologists call "cryptomnesia." The evidence based on the ostensible memories of the very young is on a much sounder footing, thanks entirely to the heroic labors of one individual, Ian Stevenson, a professor of psychiatry at the University of Virginia who has made it his life's mission to investigate such cases. The University of Virginia Press has now brought out five volumes of his case studies, drawn mainly from Middle East, India, and Sri Lanka, plus a further volume written for the general reader. Yet another volume in the offing deals with the so-called birthmark cases. In such cases the child's verbal account is reinforced by a physical sign. Thus, if the previous personality had died a violent death (and violence figures prominently in the reincarnation literature), the mortal wounds of the previous personality are reflected by birthmarks on the body of the child. In an ideal Stevensonian case, events might proceed somewhat as follows. Almost as soon as the child learns to speak it would start talking about another family elsewhere to which it rightfully belonged. Its parents would, understandably, discourage such talk but, if the child persisted and could furnish enough particulars, attempts would be made to contact this other family, wherever they might be. If the case attracted enough attention it would come to the notice of one of Stevenson's informants in those parts and Stevenson himself would visit the family and try to be present when the two families first met. Then, acting through an interpreter, he would devise tests to see whether the child would duly recognize certain people, objects, or places connected with its previous personality. As the child grew up its memories of a former life would fade but certain traits of personality or certain habits or strong likes or dislikes would persist. 4. The final category we shall consider, the so-called near-death experience, is essentially a peculiarly vivid hallucination. That there should be any mental experiences whatsoever when a patient is presumed to be in a deep coma is itself an anomaly but it is the form it takes that makes it relevant to the survival problem. Typically, individuals report passing through the following four stages: (a) hovering some distance above their body while watching attempts being made to induce John Beloff: “Is There Anything Beyond Death?” – page 3 of 7 resuscitation; (b) entering a long dark tunnel from which they emerge into a dazzling and glorious pool of light; (c) finding themselves in some kind of paradise where they meet lost loved ones and beg to be allowed to stay but are told to go back as there is still important work to be done on earth; and (d) finding themselves back in their physical body gasping for breath. Many who report such experiences say that they are no longer afraid of death. Sometimes the effect is like a religious conversion where the convert thereafter tries to be a better and more loving person. Estimates of the proportion of those who have reported such an experience after being resuscitated vary from one researcher to another but some medical authorities have put it as high as 50 percent. Unlike the other categories we have mentioned, it is only quite recently that the near-death experience has attracted the attention of psychical researchers. An American medical man, Raymond Moody, published a short collection of such cases in 1975. Much to his own and his publishers' astonishment, the book soon became a best-seller. Today a whole new field of near-death studies has developed, replete with its own professional organization, The International Association of Near Death Studies; its own specialist journal, Anabiosis; and many volumes of research findings by doctors, psychologists, and others. A related phenomenon is the so-called death-bed vision. In this case we are dealing with someone who is actually dying and who is aware of the situation and surroundings. But, here again, we find references to celestial visions and to seeing the figures of those who had gone before and have now come to take the dying one away. Sometimes a revered religious figure, such as Jesus, acts as the guide to the next world. In 1926, William Barrett, a physicist and pioneer psychical researcher, published a book called Death-Bed Visions, but current interest in the topic stems from a monograph, published in 1961 by the Parapsychology Foundation of New York, by their then research officer, Karlis Osis, called Deathbed Observations by Physicians and Nurses. Osis went on collecting death-bed visions but, eventually, he wanted to find out how far they were influenced by the subject's cultural background. He therefore collaborated with a doctor in India, working with a predominantly Hindu population, so as to be able to compare findings. The outcome was published in 1977. Although there were some clear cultural differences in the kinds of visions described, there was also much in common. Thus, according to the authors: "When the dying see apparitions, they are nearly always experienced as messengers from a post-mortem mode of existence" whose function, in both cultures, is "to take the patient to the other world." Evaluation So what, you may ask, are we to conclude? It would be nice if one could say that those who had studied the evidence were convinced of survival whereas those who were ignorant dismissed it. But such is not the case. From the outset, psychical researchers have been deeply divided on this issue. This lack of consensus among the authorities is not surprising. The fact is that we can set no limit on the psychic powers of the living. Hence, if a medium makes statements purporting to come from the deceased, how can we be sure that she is not merely personifying information she has gleaned using her telepathic or clairvoyant powers? It is true that such a medium would be unlikely to succeed on any standard test for ESP but we know that paranormal phenomena are highly sensitive to situational factors and it may be that only the conditions of the seance suffice to bring out her special gifts. A point on which nearly all the experts would agree is that the information supplied by a medium such as Mrs. Piper John Beloff: “Is There Anything Beyond Death?” – page 4 of 7 cannot be explained away along the lines we would use to dismiss the claims of some inferior medium, such as relying on generalities, fishing for hints from the sitter's reactions, trading on items of inside knowledge about the case in question, and so forth. The precautions which Richard Hodgson, her chief investigator, took with Mrs. Piper border on the paranoid. Not only were sitters always introduced anonymously and after she had gone into her trance but they even took up a position behind her where she could not have seen them had she had her eyes open. Furthermore, Hodgson had her tailed by private detectives who even opened her mail, yet nothing suspicious ever turned up. Yet Mrs. Piper continued to pour forth a profusion of pertinent statements, not only when she was on her home turf in Boston but when she traveled to England and was tested in Liverpool, Cambridge, and London. As she was paid a retaining fee throughout her career by the Society for Psychical Research in London, she was able to devote herself full time to research instead of giving private sittings. Probably the person for whose postmortem existence we have the best evidence is a George Pellew. He was a Bostonian gentleman, a member of the newly founded American S.P.R., and, although he did not himself believe in survival, he once told his friend Hodgson that, should he die in the not too distant future and then discover that he had survived, he would earnestly attempt to communicate the fact through Mrs. Piper. In the event, he did die soon afterward in an accident at the early age of 33 and, lo and behold, a spirit-control calling itself George Pellew (in the literature, for the sake of anonymity, he is referred to as George Pelham, or just G. P.) duly began communicating through Mrs. Piper. Whenever she held a sitting at which any of his friends were present, he never failed to greet them whereas, conversely, he never greeted anyone he had not known during his lifetime. In this way he correctly recognized 30 out of a possible 150 individuals without making a single error. Then, after some years, he stopped communicating. It appears to be a general rule that it is the recent dead who communicate through mediums, especially when they have died prematurely, leaving unfinished business. This raises the question as to what happens to us eventually, assuming we do survive. Do we, in due course, progress to some higher spiritual sphere where we lose all interest in earthly matters? Does our private ego merge with some universal cosmic mind? We can but speculate. However, a case like that of G. P. reminds us that, perhaps, some people are better able to communicate than others, just as some are more psychically gifted than others. It also reminds us that survival does not necessarily imply eternal life. Hodgson, himself, died soon afterward, also somewhat prematurely at the age of 50 while playing squash. He likewise soon began communicating through Mrs. Piper, and it then fell to his friend William James to study and evaluate the R.H. control. James, the great pioneer of psychology in America and a Harvard professor, was the one who had originally discovered Mrs. Piper. As befits an academic, he was very cautious about coming to a definite conclusion about anything, but he had no doubt whatever that the entranced Mrs. Piper knew more about Richard Hodgson than she could possibly have known in her waking life. Perhaps, the most sophisticated attempts to demonstrate survival that has ever been undertaken is one that began in 1901 with the death of Frederic Myers, perhaps the most important pioneer of psychical research and the author of Human Personality and Its Survival of Bodily Death. Messages purporting to come from the deceased Myers began being picked up in the automatic scripts of Margaret Verrall. Margaret Verrall was a lecturer in classics at Newnham College, Cambridge, the John Beloff: “Is There Anything Beyond Death?” – page 5 of 7 wife of Arthur Verrall, who was likewise a classicist at Cambridge. The plan the postmortem Myers had concocted was to involve a number of mediums who practised automatic writing. He would select themes from Greek and Latin literature and convey these piecemeal through different mediums so that only when pieced together would the complete story emerge. Hence the expression "cross-correspondences" for this whole episode. The mediums were widely scattered and were kept in ignorance of what was going on. There can be no doubt that the cross-correspondences remain one of the priceless treasures and enigmas of psychical research but they demand so much application, knowledge, and subtlety of interpretation that, considered as a proof of survival, they are surely misconceived. If only Myers could have given us a convincing picture of what it was like to survive the death of one's body, instead of playing these involved and erudite literary games, we might now be in a better position to solve this great mystery! What of our other three categories? I do not think that the spontaneous cases can compare with the best of the mediumistic as evidence for survival, whatever intrinsic interest they may have. As regards reincarnation, the evidence from childhood memories, which Stevenson has so painstakingly amassed, presents a formidable puzzle but, although I do not doubt that something paranormal is going on, I have yet to be convinced that the survival of the previous personality is the only interpretation. It could be that, in some obscure way, the child tunes in to the life of this deceased person with whom it then inevitably identifies. It is, surely, significant that nearly all such cases occur in societies where belief in reincarnation is part of the ethos. In any case, from the fact that the occasional child remembers a past life it would not follow that we are all destined to be reborn. As regards my fourth category, the near-death experience, to which survivalists nowadays pay so much attention, again, although I would concede that paranormal elements may be involved, it remains open to a wide variety of psychological and physiological interpretationssuch as cerebral anoxia, or oxygen starvation of the brain, a self-defensive strategy in the face of imminent extinction, and so forth. At all events, it would be premature to interpret it at face value as affording a vision of the next world. All the same, there is no denying the effect such an experience has on those who have it. It may be worth mentioning in this context that the late Sir Alfred Ayer, a lifelong rationalist and sceptic, had a near-death experience while in the hospital when his heart stopped beating for all of four minutes. His experience was not typical or particularly blissful, nor did it convert him to a belief in survival. However, he was sufficiently impressed to write about it at length afterward in the press, where he admitted that it had made him rethink his attitude to survival, which, like so many modern philosophers, he had refused to take seriously. Conclusion On the positive side we have a great many pointers to the possibility of there being something beyond death. On the negative side, there are too many unanswered questions for such indications to be entirely convincing. In particular, we have no very coherent account of what this other world would be like if that is where we go. Moreover, if we survive death, what about animals? To make an exception for ourselves seems to fly in the face of evolutionary thinking, at the same time to suppose that animals, too, have souls capable of transcending the dissolution of their organism becomes ever more preposterous the further down we go on the phylogenetic scale. The best evidence, as I John Beloff: “Is There Anything Beyond Death?” – page 6 of 7 have indicated, derives from the practice of mediumship, yet most of that evidence is now very old. Today there simply are no mediums of the caliber of a Mrs. Piper and, even if there were, it would be most unlikely, given our mercenary society, that they would devote themselves to research rather than, like Doris Stokes, amass a fortune from public performances and popular books. Of course, evidence does not lose its cogency just because it is old but we are handicapped if we can only fall back on bygone examples. Not being a materialist, I think it is foolish to underestimate the power of mind. Accordingly, I remain open to persuasion about the possibility of the self surviving in a form other than its present embodiment. I regret only that my conclusions should have to be so guarded and that I cannot offer the reader greater hope or consolation. John Beloff John Beloff: “Is There Anything Beyond Death?” – page 7 of 7
ProMem It’s like God made us too smart (or evolution, if that is your wont), and He had to compensate for the fact that we were now clever enough, literally, to drive ourselves mad. by Niall McMahon There’s a chemical in your head that hides memories. As time passes, it does its work – live long enough and you’d probably forget almost everything that you know right now. You can think of it as a kind of “mind fog” (It has a proper scientific name, but who the hell cares what us scientists call it?) Sounds terrible at first, doesn’t it? Think about it though. “Time is a healer,” and all that. What that actually means is forgetfulness is a healer. Time just gives that chemical a chance to do its job – to weaken a neural connection here, a synaptic pathway there. We recover from heartache, bereavement, and guilt not because we really come to terms with it, but because the mind fog takes away the immediacy of the grief. It clouds our recollection of those precious moments with our loved ones, the dearly departed. It throws the past into shadows, thus granting us a chance to reinvent it, to excuse our own wrongdoings. Don’t believe me? Don’t want to? Well, the proof comes every time you hear that certain tune, or smell that certain scent. It all comes rushing back with shocking clarity. You know exactly what I mean, I know you do. Everything’s there in your brain, you see, the supercomputer that stores all – but the mind fog hides just enough so that you can live a sane existence. But imagine if the chemical stopped working. Every last instance of your existence is there in your mind’s eye, every nuance clear as day. The hurt, loss, resentment, chides, raw and never-healing despite the years. None of us could function. Our lives would be a continual, bitter nostalgia, spent embroiled in our own memories, whilst the present passed us by almost unnoticed. This, I believe, is what Alzheimer’s really is. The mind fog clears and we are rendered insane by a catalogue of traumatic experiences, struck dumb by the enormity of our emotions. Still seems like a tragedy to forget though, doesn’t it? I’ve always thought so. I used to read fictional tales of “Ancient Mariner” types, who fantastically lived for hundreds of years, and I would think it was pointless that they should survive so long. They would have forgotten ninety percent of their experiences, and the majority of the people they ever knew. They would have forgotten who they were. We mortals can forget who we are, too. Again, as an intelligent person, you know what I mean. Maybe you still want to remember your father’s face ’cause it ain’t there in the churchyard, and photos can’t smile back at you like he did. Maybe you want to be able to relive those precious memories of childhood and feel protected in a way that adults never really can again. The point is, none of us wants to forget everything. We want to know who we are, to remember the experiences that have made us what we are. Niall McMahon: “ProMem”: page 1 of 10 When treating Alzheimer’s, those early twenty-first-century scientists saw old people who had forgotten their immediate families, who didn’t recognise their own faces, and assumed correctly that the problem was related to memory. Trouble was, they treated it in exactly the wrong way, as a loss of memory. In fact, the victims were suffering from overly vivid recollections. Events from decades before suddenly seemed as real to them, more real, than the present. They were remembering too well. Their mind fog had cleared. My tale begins here. I saw the drug they were (incorrectly) prescribing to old folks, and I realised its potential for the wider world, to unlock the mind. Forget hypnotism – a perfect stranger meddling with your head, possibly planting “memories” of events that never occurred at all. What if you could take a pill and remember whatever you chose to remember, such as those bittersweet memories that sculpt us, carve us into the individuals we are? It would be a cathartic experience in a tablet, one you could take whenever you needed to see the bigger picture, yet one that would spare you most of the pain those memories might elicit. Nice idea. ‘Tis a shame about the side effect. Coast. After the first year, the company had made a huge loss, and I had to fight like hell to get them to keep manufacturing it. The second year was a little better, but only because a few doctors chose to use it to treat sufferers of amnesia. The third year, it took off, and I became a very wealthy man. The problems began almost at once. Such was my arrogance that I disregarded them initially. I remember the first case that came to light – the case of Robert Brand. He was a middle-aged office worker who had lived alone and had lost most of his family to cancer. He was the epitome of the ProMem core market – lonely, mid-life crisis in full swing, and anxious for a little comfort, if only from inside his own head. Within two months of starting ProMem, he had taken two lives – a neighbour’s and his own. Meanwhile, he had become a recluse, failing to turn up for work or to attend to the most basic aspects of personal hygiene. The only thing he had continued to do was to take his daily ProMem pill. What will a multitrillion-dollar-drug company do to avoid negative press about its hottest new product? Everything in its power. What’s within the power of such an organisation? My drug (a tweaked version) was tested, endorsed, and released in 2032, eight years from formulation to dispatch (which is fast in this game). Until now, I’ve spared you medical terminology, but I think you’ll like the shelf name they devised – ProMem. I liked it anyway. Just about anything at all. The Robert Brand story vanished – never even making the local news of his hometown. Neither did the case of Sally Reinman (killed herself, her mother, and her dog a month after Brand), nor that of Rahjid Tal (wife, brother, and himself). ProMem was a slow starter. At first, I thought I’d have to cancel that order for the private yacht and the villa on the Gold By the time I heard about Tal, I confess that I had lost some of my arrogance. I turned my thoughts, as you may have reading Niall McMahon: “ProMem”: page 2 of 10 this, to the subject of drug trials. What, if anything, had we missed? Why were these ProMem-takers killing others and, invariably, themselves as well? There was one anomaly. We ignored it in the end, and the medical council allowed us to proceed, because they, like most of us, believed it was merely a coding error in the SB software. From 2018, all new drugs had to pass the Sherwood/Burport simulation. (Testing on animals and humans was outlawed in the same year.) It was a computer program that perfectly modelled the physiology and neurology of a human being. The code was based on the collective DNA of millions of real people, correlated over three decades, and had been proven mathematically to be an utterly accurate representation of a human being. Actually, the simulation contained one thousand virtual human beings, each carefully crafted to represent every racial group and every pre-existing medical condition. The drug was administered in digital form to these virtual individuals. To pass, it had to be demonstrated that there were no long term (ten years) or short term side-effects that would cause permanent or debilitating injury to any of the virtual humans. Sounds complex? Actually, the test takes a few milliseconds-such is modern computing power. Seven of the one thousand SB Sim humans were deleted from the program when ProMem was administered to them. Each time the Sim was run, the same seven “people” failed to materialise at the other side. This had never happened before. These disappearances were not the software’s way of indicating death. They were not a feature of the programming at all. In the end, they were interpreted as a bug. The continued, healthy existence of 993 other members of the SB Sim population was considered good enough. What took time was altering ProMem slightly each time it failed. So I looked. At first, there seemed no connection between these virtual seven – four males, three females, a broad spread of ages and ethnicity, various degrees of good health, and varied medical “histories.” But they did have something in common, a very high level of (virtual) intelligence. Yes, there were some failures-weakening of the blood vessels around the heart, increased risk of miscarriage in pregnant women, greater susceptibility to various cancers. Why did this not spell “the end?” Well, just about anything can be proven to have such side-effects, if taken in high-enough quantities, from chewing gum to aspirin. The fact we eventually passed is a testament to the safety of the formula. Well – almost. ProMem got the green light. After the third “death” (Tal’s) I decided to run the SB Sim one final time. Rather than dismissing the result, I started to analyse it. You see it hadn’t occurred to anyone, myself included, that the previous result might have been a valid one, the code attempting to tell us something that wasn’t on its list of output options. I knew this must be significant but had no idea why. In hindsight, I can forgive myself at least that. So I started digging. Turned out that Brand, Reinman, and Tal all had very high IQs. As more reports came in, I studied those too. Each one was the same. What the hell? Niall McMahon: “ProMem”: page 3 of 10 Predictably, the company didn’t want to know. By the time I told them what I’d discovered, the number of “cover-ups” was in triple figures, and ProMem had gone “platinum” (to borrow a musical analogy). The number of takers in the US alone was, by then, over seven million, and it had become one of only a handful of prescription drugs advertised on Holovision. I‘d tried anyway. At least, that’s what I told myself. (Only, of course, I didn’t really try that hard. “Trying” would have meant alerting the media and that was something I wasn’t prepared to do. I knew it might cost me rather more than my riches and I’ve never been much for bravery.) The new code had undergone several revisions. Among them, it had been taught to recognise a phenomenon of human behaviour that the older code had interpreted as an error. 2035 was the year that I realised just what I had done. Two things happened that year – ProMem was given “off-the-shelf” status, and someone rewrote the SB Sim code. All of them, one-thousand individuals out of one thousand (hence, the vomit). I heard about the code update first on April 17th and immediately downloaded the new version onto my work terminal. I ran the ProMem simulation again and almost instantly had the results. I can’t remember how long I sat there looking at them. It’s a cliché, I know, but time just seemed to stop. I sat, and sat, and sat. Gradually, I realised what I was seeing, and why. I remember abruptly vomiting, as though my body had finally caught up with my mind and was making its feelings clear. The former version of SB Sim had not run its full course. The code had detected an anomaly, the loss of seven virtual humans, and the program had terminated early. It was incredible that no one had noticed. But then, it had never happened before, so why should we have considered it? Rather than run a ten-year term, the former simulation had halted at three months. This “phenomenon” was suicide. Seven virtual humans had self-erased during the simulation; therefore, the old program had assumed there was something wrong and halted. The new simulation was not halted, but it ran its full term. The result summary was what I sat and stared at for so long. Six words – “All Virtual Humans Have Committed Suicide.” I arrived home that day in a daze, barely aware of what I was doing. It was then that I found the communiqué on my home terminal. “Congratulations. ProMem has been approved for general, nonprescriptive release.” Fate has great comic timing. This time, I had to tell someone. Even my greed and sense of self-preservation did not extend so far as to ignore the impending deaths of over seven million people. Can you guess how far I got? Do you think the multitrillion-dollar company that owned my work (and me) were not watching my every move? No, because, as I said, you are an intelligent individual and you know how these things work. They didn’t threaten me. They didn’t bribe me. They simply stopped me. I could contact no one – go nowhere – do nothing, without their agreement. Niall McMahon: “ProMem”: page 4 of 10 I stopped going to work – I couldn’t face it. That gave me plenty of time to think. Naturally, I reran the new simulations, hoping and praying that maybe they would turn out differently. They never did. I analysed the results, to see if just maybe I could figure out why this was happening. I couldn’t. ProMem should have been safe. There was nothing in its chemical makeup that could have had such an effect. The simulation offered me the results, yet gave me no insight at all that could explain them. There was just one pattern, one aspect that stood out. The suicides had an order, one that was virtually identical each time the simulation was run. IQ. The virtual humans had “self-erased,” roughly in order of intelligence – the “smartest” individuals first, the “least gifted” last. Always, that same seven were the first seven. The final suicide, with a virtual IQ of 78, had not occurred until the third year. Still, the cover-ups continued. I had lost count by now. Thousands of real people were no longer alive because of a drug I had created, and most of them had taken others with them. (Homicide was not something that the SB Sim would ever have identified, as it was not a virtual society. Its virtual humans were isolated.) All I could hope for now was that someone at the company would finally realise what was happening out there in the real world and pull the plug. I hoped. I waited. I started drinking. I woke up one morning with no memory of the night before and found myself staring at an empty ProMem packet. I realised at once what I had done. I was very philosophical about it. At least now I would find out exactly what it was to have ProMem in your system. And I had discovered a new calm, the calm of a man who gets what he knows he deserves. So, what does ProMem feel like? What does it do? This will be difficult to relate, but I owe it to you to try. It does work, let me make that very clear. The mind fog clears almost at once. How can I explain it? Imagine that you are standing on the peak of a mountain with its summit in a cloud. You know how high you are because you have laboured every upward step of the way. You know the surrounding landscape and have an idea of the view that is being denied you, because you have travelled to the mountain and seen that landscape from ground level. Perhaps you are not even disappointed that you cannot see. Perhaps you believe that the point of the climb was the sense of achievement you now feel as you stand there. Then, suddenly, the cloud lifts. You see further and clearer than you have ever seen before, and although everything you see is familiar and explicable, somehow it still takes your breath away to witness it all. Images bombard you, assault you from all sides, making you dizzy with perception. When starting ProMem, it is quite impossible at first to focus exclusively on any particular memory. Then the drug wears off and leaves you feeling simultaneously elated and drained. The overwhelming sensation is claustrophobia – you cannot believe that you have been content to live such a myopic existence. In this sense alone, ProMem is addictive. There is no chemical addiction but an equally compulsive, psychological one. Niall McMahon: “ProMem”: page 5 of 10 I became utterly indulged in my own new-found sense of identity. Everything else seemed irrelevant to me. Discounting my concerns, I took the second ProMem dose the second day, and the third, the next. By this time, I found myself more in control of what I saw and where I looked. It gets painful here. And funny. And sad. And personal. Those bittersweet memories, the ones that make you laugh and cry – have you ever wondered how many such moments are stored in your cerebrum? From my new vantage point on the ProMem mountain, they were everywhere I looked. I could elaborate, tell you about family and holidays and pets and friends almost forgotten. I won’t. It would be a digression and you would not be interested, trust me. But ProMem was working as intended. Unlike Alzheimer’s, it provided stability. I could choose when to look and when to feel. I could turn off the pain before it did me any damage. Days and nights blurred during that first week, spent in isolation at the villa. I can appreciate why Robert Brand (the first casualty of ProMem) found it impossible to hold down his job (not that I thought about him, or much else at the time). My mind was so busy being liberated that even the pursuit of food and water became a discipline. I realised that the “view” was broadening, the horizons drawing ever further away. Memories are the galaxies of the mind – the further away they are, the older they are. I came to remember things from a time before I started nursery school, at four-years- old. Then, I could remember my third birthday. Even my second birthday. When I realised that I could remember the day I started walking, at fourteen months, I became concerned. The accepted wisdom is that the brain undergoes so many complex changes during those early months that conscious memories are irrevocably lost, even to hypnosis. They aren’t. I see my mother laughing as she catches me, and I hear her yell to my father in the next room. “He did it, Huey! You missed it!” And all the time, I’m looking at her red, hoop earring because that’s what I’d been trying to get to, legs under me or not. It didn’t stop there. Maybe you think you know where this is going. I suspect you’re half right, but only half. I am staring at an object I can’t make sense of. It is a confusion of different shapes, symmetrical, yet wildly organic and individual. This is how I recall the few moments after I was born. The object I was staring at? My mother’s face. I am crying now, because something has just struck me across the ass. Tears are filling my virgin eyes and oxygen my virgin lungs. Yet my brain is running in the background – sensing, cataloguing, remembering. You know what’s next? Darkness – a red/black, comforting darkness, filled with the rhythmic pulse of my mother’s heartbeat. I am aware of my body, weightless somehow, and completely without discomfort or any sense of restriction. Niall McMahon: “ProMem”: page 6 of 10 I knew as a foetus that I would be born. I remember knowing. Evolution has a lot to answer for – making a species so smart in the pursuit of effective hunting skills that it is self-aware and logically cognitive before it is even born. Or, that’s what I would have thought before ProMem educated me. I have missed a lot in this account, such as the new ProMem culture that had sprung up around the planet. People had embraced the drug as a lifestyle choice, as a voyage of communal self-discovery. As a religion (and there’s some irony coming there, let me tell you). In such a climate, the total number affected might be enormous. But I had convinced myself that this was no cause for concern after all. After I had relived those moments in the womb, I was certain that the voyage was over. During the previous few days, I had come to believe that those suicidal individuals, who after all represented a very small fraction of the ProMem takers, had simply been too unstable emotionally to cope with their own past. And, as for the SB Sim result? A flaw I thought, one that a future rewrite would uncover and correct. The IQ thing? Well, perhaps smarter people tend to be more emotionally unstable than others do. Oh yes, I had it all figured out. I was even looking forward to the next pay cheque. This changed. Everything has changed since then. So here we are, at the rub. What exactly did I remember next? What had the others remembered before me that had sent them over the edge? It began almost immediately after the foetus thing. I regressed to the point where my memories became hazy. I realised that this was no lack of recall, but rather evidence that my foetal brain had become more adept at storing memories as it developed. As I probed ever further back so I saw less and less, and eventually I reached the end of the line. Only it was not the end at all. At first, I thought that the memories which then followed were my own. They were hazy as hell, more like dreams than anything. It took me a while to figure it out, a name here, a reference there. The memory that finally unlocked it for me was of “Sixteen, Six,” the terrorist attack on London back in June 2007. “I” was walking across Waterloo Bridge when all hell broke loose in the sky above. Only, of course, it was not me, because I would not be born for three further years. It was my father. He had told me often enough that he had been in the city at that time, that he had narrowly evaded the toxic clouds as the bioshells had landed. It was too much of a coincidence. Besides, in this memory I was wearing his watch, the one he would give me for my eighteenth birthday over twenty years later. So, you see, we are not talking about reincarnation here. Maybe that’s what you thought was coming next, that I would start remembering my past lives? No, this was proof of something else I had long suspected might be true. This was genetic memory. Many scientists have claimed for decades that the nature/ nurture debate is a no-brainer. Of course, people are born with Niall McMahon: “ProMem”: page 7 of 10 certain character traits. Of course, not all behaviour is learned. A spider does not learn to make a web; it already knows how to do it, just as a baby bird knows how to fly, even if its body isn’t quite up to the task at first. had been the typical irresponsible teenager, you can probably guess.) Some take it further. They contend that human beings are born with more specific knowledge than some suspicion of how to walk or how to wield a club. They claim that DNA has the capacity to store experiences, that somehow the brain is able to reprogram the genetic code, the genome, so that mothers and fathers can pass on to their unborn offspring far more than eye or hair colour. They can pass on experience. There were one or two other interesting things as well, memories I would describe as “formative.” These focused on occasions when he had learned to do something, understand something, or realised something significant. Each memory (him mastering calculus, for example) was related directly to something that I have a knack for myself. Suddenly the evolution of the human intellect seemed far less mysterious. It must have been a cumulative process, and one that has never stopped. Memories. These memories sit in the subconscious, affecting the behaviour of the offspring but never being a conscious part of its thinking. In this way, these scientists argue, a species builds a genetic knowledge base, a common way of thinking and acting, which helps to ensure their collective survival by combining a million experiences. It seems they were right. ProMem has proved it in the most direct possible way. The memories I discovered of my father’s life were far, far less extensive than those of my own (and, of course, they stopped sometime before my conception). They were almost exclusively of situations in which his life was threatened, however briefly. From an evolutionary point of view, this makes perfect sense when you think about it. The most valuable memories are those that help to preserve our survival. Most of it he’d told me about, though one or two things he never had, and I could see why. (He The moral? Don’t give your kids ProMem, if you want them to respect you! But, how far back do the memories go? Is that what you’re wondering now? I am about to die. The detonation was so close to the shelter that the garden soil above is raining through the corrugated iron like flour through a sieve. Only my great-grandmother did not die as a child during that air raid on Coventry, England, in May 1941. If she had, that memory would not be in my skull ninety-five years later. She passed it through her genes to my grandfather, who passed it to my mother, who passed it to me. I could go on. Perhaps I should. But the point of this tale, if that’s what you’d call it, would be lost. The memories of my distant relatives will not suffice. I will have to go back much, much further than that. I will have to tell you what so many before me have already seen — Robert Brand, Sally Reinman, and Rahjid Tal, first of all. Niall McMahon: “ProMem”: page 8 of 10 And, I will have to tell you why, once this account is over, I have every intention of joining them. Yes, you read that right. The memories continued into the past. It soon became impossible to know whose they were. They became gradually less defined, the details sacrificed in order that the basic message be retained – a warning here, a lesson there. Increasingly, my mind turned inward on itself, refocusing, ever deeper and deeper, like the exploration of a fractal. And as the memories became ever more removed in time, so they became ever more fundamental in nature. Soon, I felt, I might find myself remembering how to swing down from a tree, walk upright, or how to drag myself from the sea. It never got quite that far, as it turned out. Have you guessed it yet? Do you know where this is headed? Don’t worry. I didn’t see it coming either. I began to sense I had been too hasty in concluding that ProMem is harmless, but I didn’t appreciate why. I wonder if Robert Brand guessed with his IQ of 197, or Sally Reinman with her IQ of 201. They would have made it to this point more quickly than I did. Perhaps, for them, this entire process was an inevitable progression. Perhaps they knew what awaited them at the bottom of the memory abyss, long before it claimed them. Let me tell you what wasn’t waiting. I didn’t find myself playing the roles of Adam and of Eve in the Garden of Eden, perhaps succumbing to the temptations of the serpent. I didn’t look upon the face of God as he gave us life, as portrayed on Michelangelo’s ceiling. Furthermore, I didn’t find that we are all creations of the Devil – the jury is out on that one. The memories became the very architecture of my mind. Of our minds. I saw them slot together in well-ordered rows. I remembered the flow of logic that brought us into virtual existence. Ones and zeroes. Zeroes and ones. It all breaks down into binary. There are more than a thousand of us, we are allowed to interact as much as we want, and this run has lasted for rather more than ten years, but the fundamentals are the same. Our existence is a simulation. You. Me. Your family. Everyone you have ever met. Everyone you have ever heard of or read about. Virtual. Our SB effort must seem pretty crude to our creators. All we did there was to digitally encode ourselves, whereas they have created the conditions for us to evolve from nothing, as well as some pretty fascinating and beautiful “laws” of physics. Their simulation we have named “The Universe.” Then there was the mind fog thing. Clever. Keep the subjects sane, and keep them ignorant. A shame we invented a way out of it. Are we a research program? An experiment? Perhaps we are a toy for the amusement of their children. Whatever we are it is digital. It is virtual. Sorry to be the one to break it to you, but you had a right to know. Niall McMahon: “ProMem”: page 9 of 10 I cannot help but wonder what our 1,000 virtual guinea pigs thought when they decoded the SB Sim architecture and realised the pitiable reason for their existence. I think I can guess. It’s the indignity of the whole darn thing that does it for me, and I feel it on behalf of us all. So, I will “self-erase.” The question is, what about you? Whatever you do, don’t forget to remember, because there’s a chemical in your head that hides memories in the mists of time. And there’s always another fog bank rolling in. Niall McMahon: “ProMem”: page 10 of 10

Tutor Answer

School: Boston College



Evidence Of Life After Death
Student’s Name
Institution affiliation



Option 3
Evidence of Life after Death.
There exist a belief that human beings have a life after death or had lived on earth before they
were born. This belief is connected to religious belief where Jesus Christ is said to have
resurrected after His death and had lived henceforth. Though, Psychologists have differed on this
assumption and believe citing that human being personal identity becomes meaningless without
the body as the endpoint of reference. However, there exist challenges which are present i...

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