Inspired by the recent writings of Sha’Tara…
How would you feel if someone told you, or showed you, that you could not die? If someone pointed out to you that Death himself had died, and this life was all you had?
Would you take the common sense approach and start living healthier in order to preserve this body of yours? Or would you challenge those nay-sayers by living dangerously?
I know that personally, I have challenged Death, refusing to accept this life sentence, taunted him, tried to piss him off on multiple occasions, all in the futile hope or expectation that He would react by claiming me. But he has not done so yet. In fact, his door seems more barred to me than ever. We continue to dance the dance of life and death, yet he manages always to avoid me. Which makes me wonder…
Is it truly the fear of death that motivates us in life, or the fear of non-death?
Imagine, if you will, an immortality of flesh; not one based on the immortality of spirit (whether that be experienced as an afterlife or through multiple incarnations), or the unnatural, superhuman immortality of mythical figures who never age, and who heal quickly from whatever damage they incur. No, I’m talking about flesh that can be weakened, harmed, and maimed, complete with its concurrent suffering, but which cannot be escaped. How would that change things for you?
I realize, as I ponder these questions, that fear plays a much larger role than it otherwise would, were death an option for me. Because suffering is something I’d like to avoid…
I am much less likely to challenge authority because I fear torture and maiming. I actually have nightmares about such things! I am also much less likely to stand out in a crowd, as anonymity may be my only shield…
And surrender, as a concept and a practice, becomes a much more intimate partner on this journey of mine. I have so often found myself “sick and tired of being sick and tired” (a recovery motto), that I cease fighting completely, allowing things to simply develop around me.
Sometimes surrender works for me, as I stop trying to control all that surrounds me, and simply let it be. Other times it feels like a cop-out, just giving up when things are tough. Either way, it is a non-productive path, and it explains so much “wasted” time for me…
Trust me, I hold none of this in high regard; there is nothing respectable about this path for me. I see nothing noble or empowering or inspiring in these words I write today. Only honesty; and that I feel in spades today.
And no, I am not bashing my self today. I recognize my motives, and I own my choices. But it is nonetheless disheartening to see how much of this life of mine has revolved around the fear of non-death. For if there is no escape from this flesh of suffering, then what hope can there truly be?
An endless road ahead of me,
an endless road behind.
And nothing here beside me,
or within me,
to justify (or mitigate) such time-
Or a promise?
Which shall it be?
I think that if Death continues to elude me,
perhaps I will just murder Time…
while being me…