
I NO longer believe in an afterlife, at least not one as expressed by the usual images of Heaven and Hell, and most thinking people probably don’t either. However, I do believe that I will live forever as part of the vast molecular system of which I am composed. My ‘soul’, or whatever lives on, will not be preoccupied with the petty issues of politics and family, but with eternity. I find our increasing awareness of the complexity of life on earth and our gradual recognition that understanding everything is still far beyond the capacity of our human brains—which are often described as the most sophisticated organisms ever produced—rather comforting, as it explains for me why we cannot yet come to terms with what happens after death. The idea that we really may be part of something so much bigger and more complex than we can imagine and that all may be revealed when we return to our basic organic material accords well with our growing realisation that we don’t really exist anyway and are merely an accumulation of molecules surrounding a passage, through which nourishment passes. When that relationship ceases through accident, illness or old age, the molecules continue to live, pushing up the daisies or entering the atmosphere and becoming something else. Suddenly, it all seems less worth worrying about; instead, we should enjoy every second of what we have. Let’s face it, we would be hard put to imagine a better world than the one we have, when it is working properly and we are not wrecking it. Sitting on a cloud playing a harp sounds pretty pale compared with living in the Garden of Eden Nature provides us with, if given half a chance.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der June 21, 2023-Ausgabe von Country Life UK.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der June 21, 2023-Ausgabe von Country Life UK.
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A trip down memory lane
IN contemplating the imminent approach of a rather large and unwanted birthday, I keep reminding myself of the time when birthdays were exciting: those landmark moments of becoming a teenager or an adult, of being allowed to drive, to vote or to buy a drink in a pub.

The lord of masterly rock
Charles Dance, fresh from donning Michelangelo’s smock for the BBC, discusses the role, the value of mentoring and why the Sistine chapel is like playing King Lear

The good, the bad and the ugly
With a passion for arguing and a sharp tongue to match his extraordinary genius, Michelangelo was both the enfant prodige and the enfant 'terribile’ of the Renaissance, as Michael Hall reveals

Ha-ha, tricked you!
Giving the impression of an endless vista, with 18th-century-style grandeur and the ability to keep pesky livestock off the roses, a ha-ha is a hugely desirable feature in any landscape. Just don't fall off

Seafood, spinach and asparagus puff-pastry cloud
Cut one sheet of pastry into a 25cm–30cm (10in–12in) circle. Place it on a parchment- lined baking tray and prick all over with a fork. Cut the remaining sheets of pastry to the same size, then cut inner circles so you are left with rings of about 5cm (2½in) width and three circles.

Small, but mighty
To avoid the mass-market cruise-ship circuit means downsizing and going remote—which is exactly what these new small ships and off-the-beaten track itineraries have in common.

Sharp practice
Pruning roses in winter has become the norm, but why do we do it–and should we? Charles Quest-Ritson explains the reasoning underpinning this horticultural habit

Flour power
LONDON LIFE contributors and friends of the magazine reveal where to find the capital's best baked goods

Still rollin' along
John Niven cruises in the wake of Mark Twain up the great Mississippi river of the American South

The legacy Charles Cruft and Crufts
ACKNOWLEDGED as the ‘prince of showmen’ by the late-19th-century world of dog fanciers and, later, as ‘the Napoleon of dog shows’, Charles Cruft (1852–1938) had a phenomenal capacity for hard graft and, importantly, a mind for marketing—he understood consumer behaviour and he knew how to weaponise ‘the hype’.