That, when it is over, we shall meet again where there is no marriage, where there is nothing gross, where love perfect and immortal reigns and passion is forgotten. There that we love each other will make no heart sore, not even hers whom here, perhaps, we have wronged; there will be no jealousies, since each and all, themselves happy in their own way and according to their own destinies, will rejoice in the happiness of others. There, too, our life will be one life, our work one work, our thought one thought—nothing more shall separate us at all in that place where there is no change or shadow of turning. Therefore," and she clasped her hands and looked upwards, her face shining like a saint’s, although the tears ran down it, "therefore, ‘O Death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?’
_Stella Fregelius, A Tale of Three Destinies_ By H. Rider Haggard
Would we have existence homogenized thus?
How long could it be that we would reside in this loving bliss before we would remember life as it was with places to go and people to meet? films to experience with tears of laughter or those of grief? meals to savor and satiate, giving us full stomachs to boast over with guiltless smiles at our overindulgence?
Would we not miss changes and differences and spice and variety?
I know this about me among us. I would find suspended animation a suspect state if it offered residing just so forever and ever.
Subtract the human from me to embrace me thus, so that I could not move or live in awareness without longing, without contrast to show what is good and true and beautiful, without the bliss of living moment to moment in passionate pursuit . . . and have that interruption that brings the light of how good it was and can be again and again with but will and choice and action.
However, I'd do without the death part. (It is only human, no? to contradict oneself, or deny the inevitable.)
