This presupposes that the theory of alternative quantum realities is even sound. I get the impression from some of you it may not be.
But I was recently thinking about something comforting to tell someone who just lost someone dear. They may in fact be still alive in an alternate quantum universe. Do any of you think that would work? I wouldn’t tell it initially, when the initial shock may be setting in. But somewhere along the grieving process, it may be comforting. No?
Also, you really can’t get to alternate universes. But I think it might be possible to communicate with them. Just use gravitons. They fly all over place. Am I wrong?
I have no serious plans on saying this to a grieving person. But you never know…
If they were already disposed toward the concept – already fond of “out there” science speculation, or SF fans, or always the first to grab hold of intriguing cosmological fantasy – then, yeah, bring it up. They might already have thought of it.
Maybe there isn’t a “heaven,” but there might be a world where WWII didn’t happen, where A-Bombs didn’t fall on Japan, where Communism fizzled out early (or, hell, maybe where it actually succeeded in bringing about a workers’ paradise.) It could be comforting – to the right sort of person – to imagine the “reality” of such a world.
Other people, perhaps of a more traditional bent and not accustomed to grand speculation, might merely find the idea confusing or even dismaying. As always when offering sympathies, be careful.
I’m not religious, nor spiritual, nor opposed to the concept of multiple universes.
If someone told me my mom and dad were still alive in some alternate reality, it would not have done much for me and would have struck me as an odd remark to make. Even if true, it didn’t change the fact that my parents were gone from this reality and the effect that loss had on me.
Depends on how fine the sift gets. i.e., if it’s the same person, save for the absence of one single phosphorus atom in a cell somewhere in the left kidney…well, it’s hard to say that isn’t “the same person.” But that’s getting into depths outside the scope, I think, of the actual question.
What does “still” mean with respect to alternate quantum realities? Does it make sense to talk about things in different realities happening/existing at the same time as one another?
Yes and no… (That’s meant as a quip…but also a serious answer.)
For instance, there is no “time” in common. The alternate universe might not have happened yet, or might have happened an eon ago…but inside that alternate universe, it is January 2021.
I’d have to assume that there is some large number of alternate universes in which the loved one never existed. Not sure how others may process that.
I will say that actually might comfort me a bit because in such cases both my parents, and within the past two months, my younger sister, didn’t suffer and die from painful, years-long cancers.
But… the chances that you’re speaking to exactly that sort of person is extremely small. And the chances that in the middle of crushing grief is the right time to be asking them to join you in speculating about your multiverse theory is almost zero.
This is just in case someone here is actually considering doing this. It works well on a message board of creative (non-grieving) people, but as “something comforting to tell someone who just lost someone dear”, I’d keep my mouth shut.
Yeah. The problem is, that if there are other universes where things are much better, there’d also be other universes where things are much worse. However happy you are at the moment, if you follow this theory you’d have to also be thinking of all the versions of you and your loved ones who were in physical and/or mental agony, so you could never be happy at all.
I really hope alternate universes, at least in that sense, don’t exist. I find the idea horrifying, not comforting.
It is certainly safest – and probably wisest – to stick to the familiar old platitudes, the Hallmark Card sentiments. There really isn’t anything anybody can say. I think the effort counts for a lot, though, and if someone sprang this one on me in my own time of greatest grief, I’d smile weakly and appreciate it for its intent to comfort.
Or at least, don’t bring it up. If the family were to say “as atheists, we don’t believe in an afterlife”, say, then you could potentially, carefully, go down that route.
But bringing it up unprompted, would really rub me up the wrong way, even if I’m having trouble rationalizing exactly why.
I loosely believe in the multi-verse. I’m not positive, but I lean towards that solution to quantum mechanics.
It still doesn’t matter. The reason for my grief at losing someone is that I will never see them again. I will never hear their voice, I will never get their opinion on something. I will never be able to share with them the things and thoughts that I find interesting.
They may still be out there, having a grand ol’ time in a different universe, but it doesn’t matter to me stuck in this one.
If there were a way to communicate between universes, that may alter that a bit, but there is almost certainly not.
The idea of an afterlife would actually be more comforting if I believed in it, as it means that I will be reunited with my friends and loved ones at some point. The multiverse pretty much guarantees that I won’t be.
