Becoming a friend of death;
[still no title option admins, so here I am typing my feelings out using outdated self formatting.]
I remember when I was just a little kid. I grew up in a rather conservative christian household. Obviously, it was not a natural fit. Yet there were moments when it almost was. When I joined a drama/comedy group for example, or when we sang specific songs. One such song is called “I am a friend of God”
Like so; “I am a friend of God, I am a friend of God, I am a friend of God, he calls me friend”
Yes, I was aware at age nine the first I heard such nonsense that it was insipid, repetitive, and musically really setting a low bar. But if I could figure out how to act like that is true, maybe others will accept me. Spoiler alert; not at all, but that’s not the point.
I think about where I keep myself, philosophically. Yes, I wasted many years of my youth studying philosophy. It’s what we did before sex was easier to come by [get it?! It’s a pun!]
There is significant appeal to the taoist outlook on life. Birth and death, union and loss, these contradictions describe the world around us. None of these values are inherently wrong. We dislike death, but that is our bias intruding. I promise you that any machine you describe a breakdown to can and likely will soon suffer such breakdown. It doesn’t make sense from the point of view of the body to code for thinking about a successful end of life. Either you think there’s something after that or you don’t. You try to focus on whatever good may be attached to such beliefs.
Anyway. Misery has been a long standing guest in my psyche. Death has always fascinated me, all the more when I realized most people do anything not to think about it. That’s like a cult, without a cult leader, hallelujah! I do believe! Again, a joke, I’m not enjoying the anticipation.
I wonder what would happen if you walked into a room, sang the five bars;
“I am a friend of death”
and walked out. That would be an insanely interesting scenario. The point is, I honestly feel that I identify more with death than with God these days. I mean, guy’s immortal, and you’d think that be so cool, but instead it just means he’s seen most of this shit before. It’s hard to impress that thing. I tried, and now I don’t know what to move on to. I get death, death is a final lasting silence, and if you live loud enough you’ll be echoing into eternity. Most humans will be forgotten, and I feel that depressed people are largely of that group. Yes, today is awful, but in 200 years, who will think about it? If it isn’t an incident inciting a war, only the nerdiest of history geeks will know about you and I.