5.Nov.08

Death

 By: Varyn

Sometimes I reassure myself that someday I will die.

That's a scary thought, certainly, but a comforting thief of significance. Life is so disordered, coming across like a thousand TV channels mashed together onto one screen, still making all their different kinds of noise. Death just pulls the plug out of the wall. Death is a clear silence waiting in the background, wrapped around all the noise and stupidity as it waits for me to fall out of the net.

Most people think that the difficult part of life is that we are thrust, clueless, into a blind and chaotic world... But that's actually the easiest thing. We are all born with instinctual and largely effortless reactions inbuilt, we are not given any sure 'point' or goal in life outside of survival, so we need not ever rise beyond what we were given freely, and society freely provides the infinite nest of our birth. All the work has been done for us, because this universe operates as a state of constant development with or without our participation. We can just ride the waves of consequence and be sufficiently occupied. Too occupied, even. Stressed, pulled thin, hectic. Or we can drift off completely into numbness, and in an odd way the overall effect, the loss of self, is the same.

Everything is harmless, as it is woven into a structure that ensures all things erase themselves with time, no matter how great and terrible they play at being. Even death, if it took away all life, would itself vanish. Death is not without blind need, just like each of us that live.

The only hard part in all of this is that no one knows why. Indeed, no one even knows what 'why' really is; all causes, when examined, lead to a blind vein interwoven, invisible, throughout all creation. Of course, when examined alone, the mere idea of a single reason for everything seems absurd, yet actively we all seek it nonetheless. We progress, we weary ourselves, we better ourselves, we close ourselves just to watch our wiles and ways unfold anew. We lose people and win friends. We complicate and clutter ourselves until there is nothing left. We glorify our remnants as the last lingering strands of their affirmation pass on with those who affirmed them.

And then, as quietly and softly as dreams lapse upon a sharp wakening, we die.