I’ll tell you right away, the greatest lie in the world is death. There I’ve said it, given the plot away with the very first sentence.

How do we know we die? Because we’ve been told, overtly, covertly and via more religious teachings than I could accurately count. We know this to be true because we have been told it is so. How puerile is that when you really think about it. Or another old chestnut ‘well no one has ever come back have they? Ha ha…’ Again not true and maybe if we opened our hearts, our eyes and our ears to the possibility then we would understand differently. But we don’t. Why? Is it wise to throw all your spiritual eggs into the broken basket of formalised religion? Is it more safe? In this way if we are wrong can we then abdicate responsibility to our parents, our ancestors, to Adam and Eve who started it all. Allegedly.

Or should we – dare we- take responsibility for our own soul the way we do for our physical bodies and our mental wellbeing? If we are ill we trundle off to the surgery in the belief that we will be prescribed something miraculous, borne of the physician’s superior knowledge, to make us feel better - but what happens when the drugs don’t work? Do we then feel ready to jump outside the box most of us don’t even know we are in to look for a better option? Yes, sometimes we do and if this takes the form of alternative therapies what happens if they fail us yet again? Do we then lie down, ready to die, shaking a puny fist at the heavens where we have been told God resides, do we play the martyr card and wail ‘I’m a good person – why me?’ or do we redouble our effort at prayer in the hope that lip-service alone can alter our destiny?

Or should we – dare we –help ourselves?

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