How is it that Death is so inviting, yet so frightening to the human race at the same time? The human mind fears what it does not know, and what is more unknown than the trip from which there is no return? How funny it is, that the human being surrounds itself with companions with which to stave off the despair of loneliness, only to die completely and totally alone? The prospect of Death is so appealing, yet so profoundly unappealing at the same time, that humanity has to garnish it with the promise of eternal life afterwards in order to accept it in any form. Although many in "today's" society are casting away the very belief that allows them to accept the inevitable, in the end they cast their thoughts upon the fervent hope that there is indeed a life beyond Death, and that they will be accepted unto it, for all eternity.
These were the thoughts running through my mind as I sat on the bus, staring at a man and a woman. The man was old, decrepit. The woman, young, fresh, barely into the world, sitting next to her counterpart. He wore a cross upon his breast; she did not. Did this confirm my belief, that as humanity ages, they seek divine reasons for Death and all its dark glory? The woman had no visible signs of belief, though this didn't necessarily rule out her thoughts. It made me think, the old man and the young woman, more than ever about humanity's reasoning.
I wondered, mutely, what would happen if the bus were to crash. The metal frame would crumble, the man and the woman crushed underneath it. So much screaming. The woman with the two babies, would she throw herself over them to protect them? The men sitting in the higher seats, would they throw themselves down to the floor, or would the force throw them against the opposing seats? Myself, what would happen to me? Depending on the direction of the impact, I could be thrown against the man and the woman, into the glass behind them. Or they could be thrown into me, crashing against the window behind me. The man didn't look like he could survive it. If a truck hit the bus from the front, we would all be wretched forward. Would the people at the front of the bus be crushed? All of this ran through my head, in just a few seconds.
But I veer from my rant. If Death could occur at any moment, what is the point in fearing it? Breathing could occur at any moment, is this a cause for fear? I would hope not. Living occurs much more frequently than dying does, yet no one fears life. No one fears what they accept as normal. Isn't Death normal? At the end of any one thing's life, there is a Death, is there not? From the moment we breathe the polluted air into our lungs, from the moment we open our eyes and see the squalid light of this world, are we not dying? Why fear what is already happening?
I do not fear Death. Rather, I see it as an inevitability, an occurrence that must happen for life to have truly been lived. I see it as a liberator, a freer from the repetitive mundacity of the world. Few truths exist in this world we have fabricated, and I believe Death to be one of them. Death is welcome, like an old friend who has stopped to visit, for Death brings comforts that one cannot find anywhere else: Complete and total freedom.
These were the thoughts running through my mind as I sat on the bus, staring at a man and a woman. The man was old, decrepit. The woman, young, fresh, barely into the world, sitting next to her counterpart. He wore a cross upon his breast; she did not. Did this confirm my belief, that as humanity ages, they seek divine reasons for Death and all its dark glory? The woman had no visible signs of belief, though this didn't necessarily rule out her thoughts. It made me think, the old man and the young woman, more than ever about humanity's reasoning.
I wondered, mutely, what would happen if the bus were to crash. The metal frame would crumble, the man and the woman crushed underneath it. So much screaming. The woman with the two babies, would she throw herself over them to protect them? The men sitting in the higher seats, would they throw themselves down to the floor, or would the force throw them against the opposing seats? Myself, what would happen to me? Depending on the direction of the impact, I could be thrown against the man and the woman, into the glass behind them. Or they could be thrown into me, crashing against the window behind me. The man didn't look like he could survive it. If a truck hit the bus from the front, we would all be wretched forward. Would the people at the front of the bus be crushed? All of this ran through my head, in just a few seconds.
But I veer from my rant. If Death could occur at any moment, what is the point in fearing it? Breathing could occur at any moment, is this a cause for fear? I would hope not. Living occurs much more frequently than dying does, yet no one fears life. No one fears what they accept as normal. Isn't Death normal? At the end of any one thing's life, there is a Death, is there not? From the moment we breathe the polluted air into our lungs, from the moment we open our eyes and see the squalid light of this world, are we not dying? Why fear what is already happening?
I do not fear Death. Rather, I see it as an inevitability, an occurrence that must happen for life to have truly been lived. I see it as a liberator, a freer from the repetitive mundacity of the world. Few truths exist in this world we have fabricated, and I believe Death to be one of them. Death is welcome, like an old friend who has stopped to visit, for Death brings comforts that one cannot find anywhere else: Complete and total freedom.
