My boiler still isn't fixed. Okay, I know it's the end of february and the onset of spring promises warmer times, but right now Britain is under the sway of a damp chill. Maybe I'm getting used to cold temperatures? I have no choice. The Job Centre want me to come in this morning for more of their statutory rehabilitation sessions.

On the way I wanderd through the local park. The stonework around the edge of the lake has been well and truly fixed, restored, and now the lake looks full again. Not suprising I suppose, given the amount of rain we've been having this last week. Across the other side, where the old railway tunnel once plunged underneath Swindon Hill, I see the undergrowth has been partially cleared and the first vestige of a path laid.

Oh well, time to go, I've things to do, places to be.

The Significance of Sevenly Things

Funny how certain numbers seem more important than others. The Druids used to believe '3' was all important. So do competitors in sports, though in fairness, the lower the number the better. '10' gets used a lot. How many times have you seen lists of the 'Best of'? It's almost cliche in its own right. But '7'? Now there's a number.

In the library foyer I spotted a couple of self help books. Each gave seven steps to getting your desired result. Not that I took much notice. Instead I dived into a sci-fi novel while I was waiting for the doors to open and enjoyed the tale of gratuitous sex and violence. Who needs self help if you're packing a pulse pullet railgun and a self-aware intelligent sniper sight?

Oh yes, seven. Why is it I wonder that the seventh son of a seventh son was supposed to be special somehow?

The Big Question

I caught the end of a program on sunday discussing a big question. Have we been here before? Not the tv channel, or the condition of Briotains economy, but the hugely vital question of whether reincarnation is a reality.

The arguments were predictable. On the one hand, believers waffled on about karma and earning another chance to learn how to drive a car, how to get off with the opposite sex, and pay another lifetime of taxes to the government of your current life.

On the other hand, the realists simply grunted and denounced the whole thing as rubbish. Face it chaps, the grim reaper might not be real, but he gets you in the end nonetheless.

I confess the issue has crossed my mind more than once. As a spiritualist I have little choice but to ponder the significance of it all. Are we living again and again? Some would say that's wishful thinking, yet so many religions try to assuage our fear of death with the promise of some sort of eternity elsewhere.

My own view is that 'life after death' is a stupid concept. Of course there isn't any. Life is what happens here, on this Earth, and to imagine a disembodied you in an ambiguous paradise (or dare I suggest it, a sulphurous pandemonium of torment?) is stretching credibility a little. 'Life after death' no. 'Existence after death' p[erhaps, but my own suspicions are that the experience isn't what we're expecting.

The point is that our ideas about the afterworld are hopelessly mired in our own image. Christianity, along with certain other faiths, shamelessly tell us to behave or suffer. Good people go to paradise. Bad people go to Hell. It's a little contrived, don't you think? Organised religion isn't about spiritual welfare, but exists to organise your behaviour. It's there to tell youy what to believe, and in many cases, what to do. It is, like so many human social structures, designed to impose the will of the few upon the obedient masses.

The universe is like a jigsaw puzzle in terms of understanding. We have some pieces, disjointed bits of colour on awkward shapes, but no picture on the box lid to guide us in putting the bits in place. What organised religion does is shove a pretty picture under your nose and tells you that's how the jigsaw looks. Some of us, myself included, realise the bits of jigsaw in our hand don't exactly fit the picture we've been given.

So do I believe in reincarnation? Well, I admit that I can't help feeling that is does exist. As to how it all works or why it exists, I can't say, and I won't insult your intelligence by suggesting some framework that makes even less sense than governemnt fiscal policy.

Funny thing is, why do we worry about it?