In the post The Cat Is Still There., I ended with a simple thought:
The cat is still there, so I will keep watching
At the time, that felt like enough.
I don’t know whether the cat is alive or dead.
I don’t know what happens after death.
I don’t know whether there is an afterlife, a judgment, something completely different, or nothing at all.
The box is closed.
So I thought perhaps the only honest thing I could do was keep watching.
But then I started wondering:
What does “keep watching” actually mean?
If I can never open the box while I am alive, what is the point of watching it?
I could simply say:
I don’t know, and I don’t care.
That would solve the problem rather quickly.
Or I could choose something to believe and stop asking whether it is true.
But neither feels completely honest to me.
I grew up hearing that there is an afterlife. Not simply that there is something after death, but that there is a judgment. That how we live our lives matters. That there is a good place and a bad place, and that whatever comes after is forever.
I don’t know whether any of that is true.
And that creates another problem.
Even if I decide that an afterlife is possible, which version should I believe?
Different people have different answers. Different religions have different answers. Different cultures have different answers.
Maybe one of them is right.
Maybe none of them are.
Maybe the truth is something none of us have imagined.
So I kept coming back to the same box.
And eventually I realized that perhaps I was asking the wrong question.
I kept asking:
“What should I believe about what is inside the box?”
Maybe the more useful question is:
“How should I live while the box is still closed?”
I don’t know
I think I have to start here.
I don’t know.
I don’t know what happens after death.
I don’t know whether there is a judgment.
I don’t know whether anyone is watching.
I don’t know whether there is a reward or punishment.
I don’t know whether any religion has described it correctly.
And I don’t think pretending to know makes the uncertainty disappear.
But there is another thing I don’t know.
I don’t know that there is nothing there either.
The box is closed in both directions.
I cannot say that the cat is alive.
I cannot say that the cat is dead.
And perhaps I should stop trying to force the answer.
Instead, I can ask what kind of person I want to be while I am still outside the box.
A small set of rules
I don’t mean rules in the religious sense.
I don’t know whether these are universal laws.
I don’t know whether there is some ultimate judge who agrees with them.
They are simply the principles that make sense to me when I remove as much as I can: religion, country, culture, law, time, and personal convenience.
They are things I can try to follow even while admitting that I might be wrong.
Do not cause suffering when you do not need to.
Treat other people as real people, not as things to use.
Be honest when you reasonably can.
Do not take advantage of someone simply because you can.
Keep your promises, or explain when you cannot.
Take responsibility for what your actions cause.
Remember that other people feel pain, hope, fear, and love just as you do.
Do not assume that your way of seeing things is the only way.
Listen before judging.
Help when you can, especially when it costs you little.
Be kind without expecting something in return.
Do not make someone else’s life harder just to make your own easier.
Protect the people who depend on you.
Give people a chance to correct their mistakes, as you would want for yourself.
When you are wrong, admit it.
When you learn something new, be willing to change.
Do not let fear turn you into someone you do not want to be.
Do not use uncertainty as an excuse to do whatever you want.
Enjoy the life that is actually in front of you.
Leave people and places a little better when you can.
None of these tells me what is inside the box.
And perhaps that is okay.
What if the box really matters?
There is one thought that keeps bothering me.
What if the people who told me about judgment were right?
What if this life really is being judged?
What if what I do here really matters beyond this life?
I still don’t know.
But I also cannot honestly say that the possibility means nothing to me.
So maybe there is one more rule I want to add:
Live in a way that you would not be ashamed of if you eventually discovered that your life really did matter beyond what you could see.
I don’t mean living in fear.
I don’t mean trying to collect enough good deeds to earn a place somewhere.
I don’t mean blindly following whoever claims to know what is inside the box.
I mean something much simpler.
If there really is something beyond this life, I would rather arrive there having tried to be honest, kind, responsible, and useful than having spent my life making other people’s lives worse because I assumed there was nothing beyond this one.
And if there is nothing beyond this life?
Then those things still mattered here.
The people I loved still felt loved.
The people I helped still received help.
The people I hurt still felt the hurt.
The things I did still happened.
So perhaps this way of living does not require me to know which possibility is true.
Maybe this is what watching means
I used to think that watching meant waiting for the answer.
But I cannot wait for an answer that I may never receive.
So perhaps watching means something else.
It means remembering that I don’t know.
It means leaving the question open without letting the question consume my life.
It means taking the possibility seriously without pretending certainty.
It means living carefully because I cannot rule out that what I do matters more than I understand.
And then, after all of that thinking, I can still go back to my ordinary life.
Make breakfast.
Go to work.
Play with my children.
Talk to my wife.
Get annoyed by something stupid.
Laugh at something even more stupid.
Make mistakes.
Apologize.
Try again.
Watch the seasons change.
Grow older.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, the box remains closed.
The cat is still there.
I still don’t know what is inside.
Maybe I never will.
But I don’t think that means I have to choose between not caring and pretending to know.
Maybe I can simply live well while I wait.
Not because I know what comes next.
But because this is the life I have now.
And for now, that is enough.
The box is still closed.
I will keep watching and do what i can while the box is closed.