“The Burden of Forever: Personal Identity, Memory, and the Value of Infinite Conscious Existence” By Dr. NobuNaga. PHDD, PHDH, BSCD, DGAF (Hons), MBAL, MLOL, PHDI, NNG (Laureate) AKA He deh smoke Igbo.

To me, what people call eternal life is a subject that people misunderstand. I think that, in order to appreciate eternity, eternal life, or immortality, we have to really understand what that is—the constituents of it, and perhaps the active ingredient in the whole idea of immortality. That would force us to break it down and understand what it actually is, so that we can ascribe some sort of value to it, or have some sort of parametric definition for the platform we're working from.

And that means defining it in the most simple way, the most simplistic way.

Eternal life, immortality, or living forever is not the same as eternal memory. I think what people call eternity or eternal life is actually a combination of two things: eternal life, eternal biological life, and eternal storage—memory. This is what people mean when they talk about living forever.

But I differ slightly, because I don't think eternal life guarantees eternal memory. And where it does, where are the pros and cons? In order to value it, the pros have to appreciate the cons as well.

When we think about eternity, we must think about what "forever" actually means. Forever. It doesn't stop. It could be one quadrillion years, and it goes on forever. This is what I want to understand.

I don't even think the human brain can truly fathom eternity in order to appreciate what we're talking about here properly.

So when we have a situation where we have a forever situation, to use simple words, how many members of your family, how many friends, how many associates have you gathered over, say, a trillion years? And does the emotional attachment you have with an associate from a billion years ago level up to, or match, the same attachment you have with the people in your current incarnation right now? Is it the same level of intensity?

Let's say, for example, you lived in Sumerian times and you had children. Would you be able to remember them with the same feeling, appreciation, care, and concern as the children you have today? Theoretically speaking.

And if you could, what's the price of that?

We're not kids. At some point, all this memory—where does all this information go? We know that information is collected throughout our lives, and if we're talking about multiple lifetimes, then we're talking about an unimaginable accumulation of information. We can't prove it, but it must go somewhere: all this data we've collected in every lifetime.

So what's the implication of not having a turn-off key for your memory and recollection?

If you can remember something you did a trillion years ago, how does that affect your current situation today?

You see, eternity itself is probably not as glamorous, not as romantic, as people perceive it to be.

Which brings me to my second point: is there a third way?

Because an experience that you have, which you have no choice over, is that really a complementary situation? Is something truly desirable if you have no choice but to experience it?

At some point, we might say that these are questions beyond the level of human comprehension, and they probably are. But they're still valid questions. Regardless.

I mean, we have people who have decided to turn off their current mortal existence because they're just bored. They might say that mental illness precipitated their situation, whatever. But that's my point.

In order to understand, appreciate, or value this idea of living forever—the immortality carrot and stick that always dangles in front of us as though we're children—we have to really appreciate what that actually means.

Is that really a blessing, or could it become a burden?

How many relatives would you accumulate? How many friends? How many people would you know and lose? How many civilizations would rise and disappear?

And then there's another question: are you the same person you were a million years ago as you are today?

What has changed?

Remember, in between, you've had all these experiences. So is that being still the same person, or will that being still be the same person forever?

Supposing that being—or that soul—has a beginning, a starting point on this journey into eternity. Is the being that starts the journey the same being that has encountered ten quadrillion years?

That's my point, thanks.