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To expound specifically toward a greatly reduced answer that is by no means definite, consider how consciousness is sustained through its organic body's atomic changes during its lifetime.
The least complex(by no means simple) with the fewest assumptions is that discrete consciousness arises(is defined) by the universe from the products of the universe. A result of external natural elements and systems interacting in a pattern.
When including hidden spacetime dimensionality, where all points of energy matter and their discrete organizations have and form consciousness, it's possible to expand the philosophy into an afterlife model where the pattern or soul of organic life is anchored to celestial and atomic patterns that can reappear across the universe. This idea leads to intentionally directed reincarnation on this planet and other worlds in harmonizing with the celestial relationships that give rise to one's incarnation. It could be poetically said that one's soul is carried throughout the universe by egregores that reappear and are recognized by their celestial relationships. From this there's the possibility of substantive new funerary rites in line with a modern understanding of the universe.
What it's like in the afterlife is intriguing to consider and try to penetrate. One of my favourite descriptions that aligns with the above is one I read into from the opening paragraphs of Berenice:
The reading of the bold/ul for me describing an inversion after death where consciousness is held, cohesive by the result of its incarnate thoughts and alignment with the celestial and truth. The book is wonderful through this lens, and Eureka!Herein was I born. But it is mere idleness to say that I had not lived before — that the soul has no previous existence. You deny it. Let us not argue the matter. Convinced myself I seek not to convince. There is, however, a remembrance of ærial forms — of spiritual and meaning eyes — of sounds musical yet sad — a remembrance which will not be excluded: a memory like a shadow, vague, variable, indefinite, unsteady — and like a shadow too, in the impossibility of my getting rid of it, while the sunlight of my reason shall exist.
In that chamber was I born. Thus awaking, as it were, from the long night of what seemed, but was not, nonentity at once into the very regions of fairy land — into a palace of imagination — into the wild dominions of monastic thought and erudition — it is not singular that I gazed around me with a startled and ardent eye — that I loitered away my boyhood in books, and dissipated my youth in reverie — but it is singular that as years rolled away, and the noon of manhood found me still in the mansion of my fathers — it is wonderful what stagnation there fell upon the springs of my life — wonderful how total an inversion took place in the character of my common thoughts. The realities of the world affected me as visions, and as visions only, while the wild ideas of the land of dreams became, in turn, — not the material of my every-day existence — but in very deed that existence utterly and solely in itself.