We are afraid of death for many reasons. 

One, because the creatures who were not afraid of death, many years ago, 
perished, because (being unafraid of death) they were careless.
These creatures did not pass on their genetic material, 
whereas our ancestors -- cowardly, hairless little apes, huddled together --
were sufficiently terrified to get out of the way of bears and saber-toothed tigers, 
and, as a result, passed on their gametes, which, in part, 
have shaped our personalities at their most fundamental levels. 
Only the scared survive.

We are afraid of death for a second reason, namely:
that we fear complete annihilation.  
This, too, can be explained by evolutionary biology. 
Life wants expression: we want to be big, and fat, 
with big penises or breasts, 
and to eat and have many, many children, 
and preen ourselves more extravagantly than the people in the cave next door, 
because: fuck those people, we are US!

Death, however, is the opposite: complete un-expression.  
Death is the opposite of everything we strive for, 
and this too was because the creatures who did not strive for expression and bigness and life 
were killed by those who did. 
Or, they seemed so puny that the females didn’t desire them, 
because their offspring would probably be puny, and die. 
And no one wants to die, because of the first reason I already mentioned. 

So, in a sense, both of these reasons are the same reason. 
But they are slightly different. 

I think it is the second reason that explains the crazy stories some people tell 
about what happens when we die. 
It seems obvious that when we die, our brains cease functioning, 
and that they, along with the rest of our bodies’ material, decompose and are eaten by worms
and bugs and maggots. 
Surprisingly, however, this is not what a majority of people believe happens when we die. 
They believe there is a part of us that does not really die, and that part may 
 -- go to a paradise where every forbidden pleasure is allowed 
 -- come back to life in another body, this time perhaps as a frog or a rabbit 
 -- study the words of the Torah while eating the primordial serpent 
or even 
  -- burn in eternal fire because the person to whom the soul belonged did not accept Jesus,
or because the person masturbated. 

That would certainly be unfortunate! 
It makes one wonder why these stories were made up to begin with, when again, 
as I say, 
it seems pretty obvious that after we die, we sit in a box and decompose. 

Some people, however, are burnt up when they die. 
Not my relatives! 
My religion forbids that sort of thing. 
Because long ago, someone said that we would all be resurrected later, when the Messiah comes.
I could explain who the Messiah is, but that seems off the topic of why we are afraid to die. 
The point is, 
whoever made up that story obviously didn’t understand the idea of the 'soul' very much,
because he thought that our bodies would be brought back to life -- 
which really is rather unpleasant to think about --
and he thought that if you destroyed your body, you would miss out on the party.
That also would be unfortunate! 

Now, you may ask, 
don’t bodies decompose over time? 
Yes, they do.  
Resurrection would be a miracle. 

Now you may ask, 
if it’s a miracle, 
couldn’t a burnt-up body be resurrected too? 
Well, maybe, but not really. 

Besides, we should leave decomposition up to worms and bugs and maggots. 
There’s no reason to rush things. 
It’s not like waiting for a table at a Chinese restaurant, 
where you really want to get to the front of the line. 
It’s like dying, 
and when you’re dead, you don’t really want anything. 

In that way, 
death is unlike waiting 
for a table 
in a Chinese 
restaurant.  
  
 
 
 
 

Jay Michaelson
jay@metatronics.net