death

This year I've meditated a lot on the concept of death.

It might sound like a morbid activity to get involved in, almost unhealthy to willingly subject your mind to the idea that one day you will rot in the ground and the world will move on in your absence. Even stranger to think that in 100 years it is unlikely that anyone will even know you existed.

But it is a reality, and I think an important idea to actively let permeate into our thinking and every day activities. Everything is temporary. Every relationship has an end date. Time is all we'll ever have and to give some to another person is a huge gift.

To me, death illuminates life. It brings life into sharp focus, reminding us that existence is a miracle and people are unique and worth wonder.

Funerals are often the moments when we are reminded of the fragility and temporal nature of life. And the immenence of death often aligns our priorities to where they should be or reveal where they truly are. I almost feel that if we surpress the reality of our mortality, we sentence ourselves to a life of walking the earth with our eyes half open. Conditioned to pay respect to the mundane and necessary, allowing ourselves to forget the weightiness of the world we live in and the incredible people we know.

One relationship that has become far more important to me through this musing is the friendship I have with my dad. I remember when I took off for England alone for a year at the age of 18, the first time I'd really left home, I cried for a significant portion of my journey, realising that my dad was the most significant person in my life and I hadn't made the most of him. I have thought about the temporal nature of this relationship so much that it has begun to have an impact on every conversation I have with him - I'm always making the most of it. It makes it easy due the fact that he is a really good guy.

I want this to permeate into all my relationships though. Into every interaction with other human beings. To completely and fully appreciate any time I am given by another, knowing that they will never get those minutes back, and they chose to spend them with me.

It brings with it a certain melancholia, a certain sadness. But much beauty. Long live the sermon of death, the misunderstood preacher. The one who shouts "Live with your eyes open! Existence is not yours to control!" He is the one who walks with you and reminds you of what you have while you still possess it, before he calls you to march after him out of this world.

I want to hear more of death's voice.

And on that note...


ED'S STORY It Ain't Over from Flannel Staff on Vimeo.