Right on. Kevin Smith on death and “chasing whimsies”.
I would love to believe that when I die I will live again, that some thinking, feeling, remembering part of me will continue. But much as I want to believe that, and despite the ancient and worldwide cultural traditions that assert an afterlife, I know of nothing to suggest that it is more than wishful thinking. The world is so exquisite with so much love and moral depth, that there is no reason to deceive ourselves with pretty stories for which there’s little good evidence. Far better it seems to me, in our vulnerability, is to look death in the eye and to be grateful every day for the brief but magnificent opportunity that life provides.
I am not afraid to die, but to think I haven’t lived. That terrifies me.
Empathy is what makes us human. It’s has also caused a pit in my stomach this entire week. I saw my friends tonight, old and new, with their attentions toward a casket. Most stood with with absent stares and faces holding back tears. Some without the strength to stand on their own, and others propping them up. I have learned somewhat how to cope and deal with my own emotions, but I’ll always struggle with seeing others in grief. However, there is something very special about these times in the way that people become selfless, and will do anything they can to comfort each other. We inspire courage and compassion throughout. It’s too bad that this conscious and cooperative benevolence mostly occurs in the wake of tragedy.
Clouds are looming again
Seeing yet another friend broken by the loss of her brother is rough. All too familiar feelings of sadness, confusion and disbelief. I can’t help but imagine myself in the place of my friends, seeing my brother in a casket, and the thought alone is incredibly painful. They are brave beyond their years. How horrible to lose someone so sudden and unexpectedly, but to be left with only the decision to cease their breathing is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. There is no such thing as fairness. The universe is not cruel, not just, not kind, only indifferent. And when we wonder why, this is the only suitable answer. The older we get the more we experience crushing losses, our hearts harden, and we can stand stronger the next time around. Each sunrise signifies our survival against immense opposition. We can do nothing but use our time wisely and responsibly. We keep moving forward as to look back often and hope that we have made the ones we’ve lost proud. I can only take solace in this thought.
Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess is why several of us died of tuberculosis.
If you can follow what they are actually talking about then good for you, either way it’s still fascinating to think about.
I’m still a young man so I think very little of death
Who really does, ‘til its coming for them?
And I know with each breath I come one closer
But death is just a hook behind the door
Where I’ll leave my dirty clothes
They may dump my body in the sea
Spread my ashes miles wide,
It won’t matter, All my parts will realign.
They rush to find each other
When they hear their Lover’s cry,
And death will be abandoned
when He comes back for His bride
My earlier post does a good job of summarizing my basic view on death as an atheist. It actually reminded me of how much I like this movie The Fountain. I’m intrigued by its concept of death, returning to nature, eternal life and being reborn by the same means of which everything we know came into existence. It’s amazing to think of the origins of the atoms that we are made of, and where they will end up after our bodies return to nature.