I think a lot about death not because I’m afraid of it but because I wonder about it. Then someone close me passed away recently and that got me thinking about it even more. What it means to live. What it means to die. Or is there any difference between these two things?
I understand death to be a form of existing. A way of being in this universe. We give the word “death” to the phenomenon of losing flesh. Losing of the container. And somehow most of us fear the end of our flesh. “Death” sounds dark and horrible. I sometimes wonder, though, dying might be like casually stepping over a very thin line. I’m on this side and now I’m on the other side, like you are simply and unceremoniously stepping over a line. Just like that. I was alive and now I’m dead and I still am. I also imagine that release from my flesh might be an enormously emancipating. I will not be tormented by wants and needs created by flesh and I am not limited and separated by my flesh.