I
have for many years held quite different views on death than I believe many
people hold. These views have come from many years of meditation and
introspection, and I share them here so that if I should die—or, rather,
when—those who read this document may better understand my state of mind.
The
old adage says, "The only certainties in life are death and taxes."
Nah. Taxes are fleeting; they will one day be long gone to the dustbin of history
while death will remain the lone certainty.
Death
is literally the only predictable aspect of any living thing's existence. Think
about that. The only 100% guaranteed certainty.
Until science says otherwise, at any rate. But as of this writing, every single
man and woman understands that one day they will no longer exist in their
current form. Many of us fear for when that day will come because there is 0%
certainty of what happens afterward. Heavenly harps and halos? A wandering
spirit, invisible to the living? A space ghost cruising the cosmos?
Reincarnation? Complete obliteration of consciousness? No one knows. It's the
greatest mystery humankind has ever faced.
Which
is why it's pointless to fear it. It is going
to happen, whether we wish it to or not. While I'm currently not ready for
that day to come, I know its eventuality is inevitable.
And
yet people are constantly shocked when someone they know passes. Shocked. As if
they never saw it coming. As if they've completely forgotten that death may
come for any of us, at any time, at any moment, of any day. Adds a pinch of
spice to life, doesn't it?
And let's be real a moment. We treat death like the ultimate Bad Thing, the Thing To Avoid At All Costs. We stand in lines at the doctor's office or the pharmacy, hoping against hope to prolong our terms in these bone prisons as long as humanly possible. Like it's a race in reverse and the goal is to be the last to cross the finish line.
But listen. It all amounts to nothing. Naught. Zero. So you eat your pills and your kale and your gluten free muffins in an effort to live to be eighty or a hundred. Centenarian or bust! Why? Because of fear. We're terrified of what we might find behind door number one.
Speaking of doors, I liken death to letting my dogs outside. We have a back door and a screen door, just like you probably do. And each time I open that back door, my dogs shuffle forward until they realize there's a second door barring their way. They ought to know it's there, but they never do. That's like how most people are. They know death is waiting for them on the other side of the door, but they're always shocked to see it. It's a conundrum I've baffled myself through for years and still have not come to any conclusion as to the cause of this mass self-delusion.
And then I thought of something else. With a majority of mortal earthlings subscribing to some form of afterlife governed by a benevolent omniscient creator, why are they afraid of death at all? If anything, they should yearn to reach their divine paradise rather than stick around in a stinking meat mechanism. Those most certain of a divine reward are also those most reluctant to go to it. Again, baffling. Baffling, I tell you.
Yet, the same people terrified of their mortality happily and gleefully go on to create other people who will likely one day become terrified of their mortality. BAFFLING. We are a strange breed, we humans who bear the burden of being aware of our own demise.
The truth is, I don't process death the way I imagine most folks do. Sure, I go through the same five phases of grief everyone does, but they hit all at once, one after the other, and then it's done. No drawn out period of mourning, no existential suffering (or a reasonable facsimile thereof). This is neither good or bad; it simply is how I process death. You process how you do, I'll process how I do. No judgments here.
So. In the eventuality of my departure, please do not weep for my loss. People rarely weep for the departed, anyway. They weep for themselves. They weep for their loss, not the loss of the deceased. It's really quite selfish, but that's a quality many of us reserve the right to retain, and do so, happily in love with our misery.
I know everyone says, "When I die, I don't want anyone crying for me! Celebrate! Party! Have fun!" And of course no one ever honors that particular wish. But the point is, death is every bit a natural part of life as laughing and lovemaking and eating and excreting. Don't be shocked when I am gone. Don't be sad. Be happy I had a chance to check this place out. It's not bad, mostly. Could use more kindness and less hate. Less anger. Less fear. (I've got ideas on how to accomplish that, but we'll save that for another day.) My point is, ultimately, please do not mourn my loss, folks.
And, hey, just maybe I'll see you on the other side.
Recommended reading: The Fall of Freddie the Leaf by Leo Buscaglia
And let's be real a moment. We treat death like the ultimate Bad Thing, the Thing To Avoid At All Costs. We stand in lines at the doctor's office or the pharmacy, hoping against hope to prolong our terms in these bone prisons as long as humanly possible. Like it's a race in reverse and the goal is to be the last to cross the finish line.
But listen. It all amounts to nothing. Naught. Zero. So you eat your pills and your kale and your gluten free muffins in an effort to live to be eighty or a hundred. Centenarian or bust! Why? Because of fear. We're terrified of what we might find behind door number one.
Speaking of doors, I liken death to letting my dogs outside. We have a back door and a screen door, just like you probably do. And each time I open that back door, my dogs shuffle forward until they realize there's a second door barring their way. They ought to know it's there, but they never do. That's like how most people are. They know death is waiting for them on the other side of the door, but they're always shocked to see it. It's a conundrum I've baffled myself through for years and still have not come to any conclusion as to the cause of this mass self-delusion.
And then I thought of something else. With a majority of mortal earthlings subscribing to some form of afterlife governed by a benevolent omniscient creator, why are they afraid of death at all? If anything, they should yearn to reach their divine paradise rather than stick around in a stinking meat mechanism. Those most certain of a divine reward are also those most reluctant to go to it. Again, baffling. Baffling, I tell you.
Yet, the same people terrified of their mortality happily and gleefully go on to create other people who will likely one day become terrified of their mortality. BAFFLING. We are a strange breed, we humans who bear the burden of being aware of our own demise.
The truth is, I don't process death the way I imagine most folks do. Sure, I go through the same five phases of grief everyone does, but they hit all at once, one after the other, and then it's done. No drawn out period of mourning, no existential suffering (or a reasonable facsimile thereof). This is neither good or bad; it simply is how I process death. You process how you do, I'll process how I do. No judgments here.
So. In the eventuality of my departure, please do not weep for my loss. People rarely weep for the departed, anyway. They weep for themselves. They weep for their loss, not the loss of the deceased. It's really quite selfish, but that's a quality many of us reserve the right to retain, and do so, happily in love with our misery.
I know everyone says, "When I die, I don't want anyone crying for me! Celebrate! Party! Have fun!" And of course no one ever honors that particular wish. But the point is, death is every bit a natural part of life as laughing and lovemaking and eating and excreting. Don't be shocked when I am gone. Don't be sad. Be happy I had a chance to check this place out. It's not bad, mostly. Could use more kindness and less hate. Less anger. Less fear. (I've got ideas on how to accomplish that, but we'll save that for another day.) My point is, ultimately, please do not mourn my loss, folks.
And, hey, just maybe I'll see you on the other side.
Recommended reading: The Fall of Freddie the Leaf by Leo Buscaglia
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