An Atheist’s Heaven

Posted on 19 March, 2008


So there’s this book, a big one, and it comes with a big comfy chair. And the big, big book has everything! Every teeny-weeny detail ever. But more than that, every detail is about you.

Every moment of your life described from every single angle. Every utterance you ever made, every twist and turn of your limbs and every effect you ever had on another living soul are there.

Thing is, it’s so well-written you feel for the characters. Deeply. Truly. You called Sally Watkins “fat” in 8th grade. You read it again now, when you’re dead, and you can feel yourself shrivel, feel your poor little heart sob. And you know, you did that.

You feel the joy too. Every moment of happiness you made real is there for you to feel. Really actually feel. Imagine it! Feeling the joy you made!

It’s all there, the good and the bad that you made. And there’s no escape.

Martin Luther King is feeling, individually and in microscopic detail, the supreme welling of pride and hope in 6 million breasts.

Adolf Hitler is feeling, over and over and over and over, the visceral misery of 6 million people. And he understands their pain. He’s feeling it.

The book, of course, takes absolutely forever to read.

And what’s great is, it’s all true. Not “true” in the fragmented, disjointed collapsable “true” we live with, but actually universally, utterly true.

To bring joy into the World.

To have others know our pain.

To know truth.


Sweet Dreams.