A corpse at my door

I’m a bit disturbed today. When I woke up, my mother told me that my best friend’s father had died. She had recently told me that he was in the hospital and wasn’t okay. Today, he died.

I went outside to have coffee with a friend. As I was leaving the building, where he was lying on the ground. Lifeless. A corpse at my door. How odd.

How fragile is life? One second and you’re gone. Today, her father died but it could’ve been mine or yours. There’s this disquiet within me. This fear and melancholy.

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He died on a beautiful, sunny day. His departure made this day sadder and his family poorer. Dying is like diving into a sea of oblivion. At least that’s how I imagine it.

It’s hard to imagine something so mysterious. We sometimes forget death, until it happens to someone you know. Then it’s there, it’s real. Almost palpable.

So therefore in the course of nature once we have ceased to see magic in the world anymore, we’re no longer fulfilling nature’s game of being aware of itself. There’s no point in it and so we’re done. And so something else comes which gets an entirely new point of view. It is therefore not natural for us to wish to perpetuate life indefinitely, but we live in a culture where it has been rubbed into us in every conceivable way that to die is a terrible thing. And that is a tremendous disease from which our culture in particular suffers.

-Alan Watts

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On days when someone dies, I like to think about that. How it could be a release and the beginning of something new. Something to be celebrated and seen in a peaceful way. See it as just another step in our journey. But it’s hard. We bond with people and most of us have a very special bond with our parents. You never want to see them go.  It’s hard and counterintuitive to celebrate death but the paradigm will shift. It always does. We just don’t know how or when. Until then, we will continue to see death as dark and mysterious. As a tragedy.

 

Images courtesy of Pixabay.

 

 

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