What if you have already died before, or maybe we Never Truly Die?

This is a translation of a blog post I originally wrote in Arabic on August 1st, 2016.

What if death is relative, just like space and time? What if the universe conspires with us to live, ensuring that we never experience the precise moment of our death, never living that boundary between life and death?

None of us truly know what happens after death—if anything at all. There are many opinions, many theories, and countless beliefs about death and the afterlife. I didn't write this post to discuss the old theories or beliefs about death; rather, I want to propose a new and somewhat wild idea.

Death itself is an enigma, perhaps only understandable once we experience it—once we taste it and die. But when that happens, we lose all connection to life as we know it now. Death appears as the dividing line between something we think we know—this life—and something entirely unknown: whatever lies beyond death. People interpret this unknown differently, based on their beliefs and faith. Even within the same religion or philosophical framework, individuals often hold varying ideas of what happens after death—if anything happens at all.

Death is mysterious. We don’t understand it. Scientifically, we’ve made no real headway in explaining what happens after death, and most of what we think we know is based on speculation, beliefs, and theories. None of it is confirmed.

But what if we never die? What if we are saved every time? What if there is something within the fabric of the cosmos and the physics of the universe that prevents us from experiencing the moment of death—that moment of transition between "existence" and "non-existence"?

If you are reading this now, you are alive. You haven’t died yet, and you don’t truly know the nature of death. I mean, how could you? But you’ve likely witnessed the death of others—perhaps those close to you. You believe in death because you’ve seen others die. But your judgment of death is not personal; it’s not based on your own experience.

Do you remember that close call—the dangerous incident you once experienced? Any accident or situation that could have led to your death, yet somehow, miraculously, you survived. And now, here you are, reading this. What if you actually did die in that incident? What is the difference, really, between surviving and dying? Pause with me for a moment as I introduce a concept from physics about the relativity of space and time.

In physics, specifically according to Einstein’s theory of relativity, time and space are not absolute. The rate at which time passes or even the experience of space can vary depending on the observer. Time and space are relative, depending on the observer’s position and velocity (speed). This was once a theory, but now it is an established fact in physics.

So, what if death is also relative? What if my earlier question was incomplete—what’s the difference between survival and death for whom? For you? Or for the world around you? The answer might depend on whom you're asking!

You are the only one who experienced that life-threatening moment. What if you alone perceived that you survived? Allow me to elaborate.

When you went through that dangerous incident, in reality, you died. Everyone around you knew it. People mourned you, and the curtain closed on your life. You died as a result of that tragic accident. Perhaps they rushed you to the hospital, perhaps they tried everything to save you. But in truth, you died that night in the hospital. That’s what happened—from the world’s perspective, from the perspective of those around you.

But not from yours. (the observer)

You didn’t want to die. Your subconscious mind refused death. So how did you experience that incident, and what actually happened to you?

From your point of view, you survived, you really always do. Perhaps the doctors saved you at the last moment. Or perhaps, despite the severity of the accident, you miraculously pulled through. Here you are, alive, reading this. And, from your perspective, everyone around you knows that you survived. How does this even work?

There is a boundary between life and death, and as long as we are alive, we cannot experience or cross it. But if we somehow continue to exist beyond death, then the presence of life before and after death may mean we never experience that boundary at all. Perhaps we transition from one life to another, without ever truly "sensing" death. How ironic—“sensing death.” How can we experience death at all?

You know you are alive, and you know you survived that incident. But in that version of the world you once lived in, everyone knew you died and that you vanished from it entirely. What really happened is that, in a split second, you were transferred to a parallel world—a world nearly identical to the one in which you first died. The differences between the two worlds are subtle, almost imperceptible. In this world, you are alive, and you survived that incident. Your loved ones and friends know that you survived. It was really close but miracles do happen.

You have no knowledge that you moved from one world to another, because you never felt it. That transition is the very boundary between what we call death and what you call life. You simply continue living your life, convinced you survived the accident, when, in reality, you died in that other world—the one where they are mourning you right now.

Notice how often you hear about death—how frequently people around you pass away, and how you feel sorrow for them. But your own death seems to be a different matter, as if it has a completely separate definition and meaning. No matter how old you are now, perhaps you’ve already died, or maybe you will die soon—whether in hours, days, months, or years. People will mourn you, but you will never witness that moment or see their grief. Somehow, someway, time and space will conspire to save you, and you will survive, always.