He secretly hopes for death
A passive protest of life
Left alone with his breath
He can't help but choke on the fight
Friends all around him, but homeless at best
Needs to be more grounded, thrown from the nest
Always lost in thought, the sepulcher of his mind
The manor in the graveyard, chosen divine
The light of day an illusion, even ogres can shine

A clear description

Death is just an ideal. In Western culture we portray it either as a junction before which one enters Heaven or Hell, in which case it is a societal if not religious control mechanism, or it is an eternal resting peace. Disregarding the former case for its lack of tact and target audience of the malignantly ignorant and blind law-abiding denizens, the latter case presents a categorical impossibility. The idea of death as an everlasting, unconscious peace is idealistic at best, and horribly misleading at worst.

Life is hard. There are too many toils and civil responsabilities, (which are nothing more than normative), which societal mores and norms project onto us as a populace. From these stressful facts and angst-rampant indivduals blooms the unreality that it's all going to be alright. Death is the obvious answer, for with it lies an infinite degree of freedom and liberation from the antagonizing forces active in the world. Unfortunately, such a perfect justification exists without a shred of supporting evidence. If death is indeed an eternal nothingness, than verily there would be no lasting peace of mind, for there would be nothing. The mind fails to exist following the moment of death. And by that, I do not mean when one would be declared medically dead. Clearly this diagnostic term is flawed, for if it were valid, no person would be able to return to life once pronounced dead. It being the case that on more than one occasion such a pronouncement was proved wrong, the diagnosis of the moment of death must be flawed. The defining characteristic of this diagnosis is the flatline, the cessation of the beating of the heart. It being the case that individuals have lived after being pronounced dead, it can be deduced that the defining characteristics of deathness are not a flatline and the cessation of the beating of the heart. Given that some individuals who were pronounced medically dead return to life with an out of body, joyous, comforting experience, it follows that death is not an entry to infinite nothingness, but instead has some sort of substance inherent in it, even if it is ephemeral or ethereal.

From this I present the Argument from Death:

1. Death exists so much as it is some concept that follows waking life.
2. Some individuals pronounced medically dead have returned to life within minutes of being declared dead.
3. Some of the individuals have reported ephemeral, ethereal experiences accompanying their unconscious time when they were "dead."
4. If (1), (2), and (3), then death is not an experience of nothingness, but in fact consists of some untestable substance.

Critique:

One might argue that not everyone who comes back from the dead has these experiences and because of the lack of universal applicability the argument is deemed unsound. However, given the fallability of man, one cannot assume that both a) the individual retains memory of this unconscious experience, just as one does not always remember dreams and b) that the individual chose to report his experience. After all, the chemical DMT is found to be released in a high quantity at the moment of death. This chemical is also present in our brains when we sleep. It being the case that the counter-evidence is unreliable as far as can be demonstrated by the potential fallability of the memory leading to a lack of testimony, it seems more likely that the post-mortem experience is indeed an experience, rather than a void of eternal nothingness.

Burning

It's like I'm trapped, I can't get out/
Blackin out, no exit, ain't no backin out/
The work badgers how? Too calm to be a nervous wreck/
But I flirt with ends, the merciless wretch in the church of death/
It churns my chest, spurns my rest, this discerning hex/
Vermon breath is all I taste when I sense its pernicious step/
Life is stagnant; death a magnet/
When I'm burning up this fast I can only enter ashes/
Deliver lashes, sever gashes, half-content with the practice/
There's no body alive who remembers what vanishes/
Tethered appendages; tendons are pendulums/
Tending to apprehend the tension pent up in them/
Testing the palanquin carrying the weight of my soul/
But the driver won't wait on my soul, wasteful and sole/

Dying to live, or living to die?

I believe that contemplation of death is necessary to gain a better perspective on life, but is there such a thing as too much to the point where it becomes unhealthy? Is it too much when you stop living your life and instead live your death? Everyday I wake up, with nothing to look forward to. Things that used to bring me joy now seem meaningless, trivial, and hardly worthwhile. I spend my time in quiet contemplation of death, but in doing so I can't help but think that I'm not living my life. What does it even mean to live one's life? Occidental culture has enthralled us in capitalistic ideals and ambitions, but stripped of all labels and ascriptions, what is life? What is death? I don't know anymore what is a worthwhile pursuit, except maybe the act of pursuing something itself. The end justifies the means because the two are equivalent. As the process is the goal, we can never reach an end but merely begin a new process. Is death a goal, or is it just an inevitable end? Ipso facto, is living itself merely equatable with dying? Are they one and the same, half-full and half-empty? Regardless of perception of post-mortem possibilities, death is an end, or at least a threshold or milestone of sorts. Life, however, is not a beginning, but is a process. There is no meaning in it, for it is meaning itself. Concordantly, would that make death just another process then that leads to something else, such as rebirth? Or is death also a self-fulfilling process?Is the meaning of death found only in the act of dying, or can it be derived prematurely, sometime in the process known as life? I don't think it can, because differing perspectives and frameworks warrant differing interpretations. Not to say that any one perspective is wrong, but better to experience death raw and objectively than obscurely and subjectively by attempting to offer what may be an incorrect interpretation.

So many of us are dying to live, doing all they can to self-actualize and "find their path." It is all in vain - all a facade to cover up the idea that we all live to die. We neither live nor die. We neither exist nor don't exist. There is no guarantor of anything - of any reality, only that we perceive. Our essence traverses on a Mobius strip, forgetting the side it once traveled on once it reaches the other side, just as in one state of being we cannot recall previous states, yet we are always on the same continuum. It is all cyclical, without beginning or end.

A good life, reflections of myself

Everyone always talks about living a good life – living life to the fullest. What about dying a good death? What would that entail and what does that mean? Today I saw my body, draped in the ceremonial covering of a morgue, and was told it was my funeral. I was asked for final thoughts on life, etc. I had none. I have always thought I have done many regretable things in my life, especially in the past year. However, at the moment of death, I have no regrets. I have come to terms with my past and made an active effort to alleviate my misactions. I did not recall these things at the moment of death because death is not just about remembering, but it is also about forgetting. We remember the good things as being much more impactful than they were and unconsciously overlook the bad as being negligible. It's amost funny how we do this, because no one wants to be left with bad memories.

Oddly enough, I had no real message to deliver to my parents, brother, or any friends. The content was the same: carry on, hold on, be strong. Remember the good times to supercede the bad, but do not live in the past. Inscribe me in the book of life and smile when you see my name amidst the ashes of your memories. To the rest of the world, I have nothing to say that the lifeless expression on my face does not communicate. I am just a name in the obituary section passed over by tens of thousands of readers. The world is cold, so why should I warm up to it, especially at the moment of departing? Life is but a dream that we all must wake up from, even if it's into a world of nothingness. No dream can last forever.

In the massacre of Lander Auditorium, the faces of all those killed were slowly flashed across the screen. When my face came, I wondered if I would be remembered a smiling or with a standard grimace. Since college I have stopped smiling in pictures to assume this image of the hardened indifferent thug. Is that me? Stripped of my identity or that which I have come to assume, is that how I want to be remembered? I know I'm full of smiles usually, yet I never smile in pictures. Maybe it's about time I change that. I want to be remembered as always smiling and happy to be alive.

In potential imminence of my death has made me realize I have spent too much time being unhappy or discontent or anxious about various issues. Some things are worth stressing about. Many others are not. It is time to draw lines and sever the worthwhile from the expendable.

I have realized that when I die, I do not want a funeral, at least not for myself. I do not want people crying over me. But it is unavoidable. In a culture as ours, where the idea of death is often times so frightening and so impactful, people need some sort of closure, some sort of unifying event to capture and pour out their ebullience. While obviously a funeral has no value to someone who is dead, I would not want a funeral after I die for the above reasons, yet it would be necessary for those who do not understand death as I do. Most people do not welcome it as I do. I do not welcome Death with open arms, but my door is unlocked should Death decide to pay a visit. I feel prepared enough for Death's company, yet there is always more preparation that can be made.

My funeral will not be a mourning of my death, but a celebration of my life. I want to put the 'fun' in funeral. I will be remembered not so much for my earthly accomplishments, but for the impact I have on others. This is my goal, my process. And so,

I don't dress to impress,
I dress for Death.
That's how I express my contempt
At ephemeral success.

A Slave to Time?

One might argue that awareness of one's death, and consequently conscienciousness of the passing of time is the defining aspect of humanity. We all will die, yes, but we don't have to go about it like it truly is the end of the world. Or, put differently, the time leading up to our death doesn't have to be so half empty – so pessimistic. At the same time, to deny its immenance and project a nearly full glass is foolhardy. Many people go about life spending their time frivolously, while others live their life by the clock, constantly checking it to make sure they aren't "wasting too much time" on something they deem "insignificant." I am both these people. But what is significant, worthwhile and wholesome and what is not? What is worth pursuing and what should we bypass? How are we to make this judgment call? Obviously priorities come into play, but how do we know they are right? We cannot know this until we develop an intimate understanding of our values in life and so appraise our activities accordingly. Even so, it's easy to get caught up in the moment and especially in one's emotions and go against one's nature. How can we ensure, or at least expect with optimal probability, that we will not go against our nature and will live authentically? I have not found the answer to this as of yet, though I suspect repeated effort is on the right path. A ritual, a habit, some form of a manifestation of one's philosophies in one's actions. By such repeated actions, one's values will become second nature to them so that one is less likely to betray them to temptation.

Not so Grim News?

Why is it that news sources today are obsessed with death and destruction? The pages flood our senses with images of violence, plague, famine, desolation, and all over unhappiness that we have let to a nationwide, if not worldwide, desensitization to such material. They do this to cater to the wants of their audience. This leads to the obvious question: why would we, as humans, want to read about and observe pictures of such misery and misfortune? Does it make us feel better about ourselves because we are not involved? Does it make us feel more fortunate to be spared and living today? When asked these questions, almost all people would deny their truths. But it is a subconscious guilty pleasure. We bask in the misery of others. We wallow in their misfortunes. We are not sadistic. We are not twisted. We are Americans.

And what does that mean? We live in a capitalistic land of opportunity, built on the principle of "live and let die." For everyone who doesn't make it, that leaves a better chance for you to ascend the corporate ladder and start reeling in the big bucks. There are many obvious problems with this economic philosophy, one of which I briefly addressed. Numerous cures exist, such as socialism, but they are not without their own faults. As good as an ideal sounds, it is just that – an ideal. It will never be anything more than a blueprint utopia. Perfection is unachievable, as humans are inherently flawed on multiple levels. Ideals are unobtainable goals that serve the purpose of giving meaning to those who pursue them, whether they know the goal is well beyond their reach or not. However, the purpose of this writing is not to offer sutures for the inherent disease of America. Instead, I offer my own ideal, in a world whose ego is not centralized on the downfalls of others.

Imagine a news source without mention of death. Actually, there is something better. Imagine a news source that instead of focusing on the apocalypse now, highlights live and prosperity. Imagine a front-page article detailing stable birth rates in third-world countries. Imagine an article expounding technological advancements in agricultural fields. Imagine, instead of an obituary section, there was a section celebrating the anniversary of the births of prominent world figures and reveling in their triumphs. Imagine, for once, not seeing a picture pertaining to the military on the cover. Imagine, for once, not skimming the headlines and groaning at seeing yet another pretentious political scandal or controversial act. Imagine, please, just for once, reading something positive and light-hearted in the news. It's hard isn't it? Everything that makes it into the news is everything that is wrong with the world. Most worthwhile activities pass under the mainstream radar. It doesn't have to be like that.

The revolution will not be televised. Home is where the hatred lies. It is up to the individual to stop breeding contempt in his heart. It is up to him to stop trying to transcend past others and become comfortable with his lot. Only then will the individual stop deriving satisfaction from the pain of others. Only then will he consciously be able to live his life in a meaningful manner. Only then, will he be free. And only then, when the audience has shifted its disposition to appreciate life and its tenets, to loathe disorder and destruction, will the papers accordingly shift their focus. Only then will the world change for the better. Just imagine, just for a minute, such a world that resonates with vivacity. It's the only world I would ever want to live in. I create this world in mind because it really is that simple. Believing is living, and living is believing. This is my manifesto. It is the path less traveled, but far more scenic than tourist routes.