Can’t Please Everybody

I was asked an interesting question by a senior clergyman in an honest but brief conversation concerning the condition of my earthly life and its consequential effect upon my eternal soul. In an attempt to evade generalizing a personal sacred vow to blind obedience the Clergyman lead his argument by asked me these few words; “Is your soul right with God?” Naturally being Me I took great offence at the degree to which a senior man of the cloth would stoop; implying in an elaborate Christian Code that my lifestyle was not up to par with the standard benchmarks of a 

God fearing believer, or more to the point; a God fearing Christian Believer. 

I tuned toward the senior clergyman now aged from the decades of battle with the forces of evil, looked him dead in the eyes and said; “it is not so important to me how I lived my life in as much as how I am remembered after I am gone”. I further went on to answer the senior clergyman’s’ deceptive question with these words; " If at all I am remembered by those that I’ve left behind, and even if their memories be but fragmented glimpse of my past acts of glorious triumphs and/or defeats; it would only serve as a testament to a life lead by a free thinking Man and not God”.

Suffice to say my heathenish statements may had touched a chord deep within the senior clergyman’s heart that he, for a brief moment time, stood still as if frozen, slowly dropped his head in an air of self contemplation and walked away from me…far away from me. From that very moment I knew that everlasting life, as it pertains to my life, was not just going to be a matter of the perpetuation of my physical essence through the continual reproduction of my prodigies but rather with spreading the essence of my soul and furious passion of my spirit in the mind and heart of but one living shall my name be forever written upon the pages of time and history.

Years has pass last the senior clergyman and I had our in-depth heart to heart exchanges with each other; I fairly written off his absence from the influence of my clique as a failure on his part to acknowledge my presence here on earth after I am gone. Not having my name be spoken out aloud in public nor silently in privet is indeed a death after death from which there is no return; simply because the memory of my name will be soon forgotten in the passing of time. 

I would have then became no more than an unknown marker in time, merely a statistical head count on the pages of his-tory, never again to gain an opportunity to tell my-story; I guess you can’t please everybody even in death.