We, just as we were taught, look at death with (and “as”) measurement and time, and so we do not understand it one bit.
All of us tend to look at death as we were instructed to. We see it through (and “as”) a screen of limitation, fragmentation, measurement, and fear. I say that it’s a distorted, lopsided way to perceive death. Our primitive society misconstrues a lot of important things. We don’t understand death because we don’t understand life. We are too busy existing in our illusory world involving acquisition, achievement, and success… (such that we never ponder deeply and wisely enough). Or we accept some antiquated fairy-tale nonsense handed down to us, originating from a very primitive past.
Am i going to hand you (on a silver platter) answers to what death is? No. It is something that one has to figure out for oneself. If one told the answers to that riddle to others, it could definitely be misused. Additionally, i would like to point out that most people assume that they are alive. They may, however, be assuming wrongly. It may be that real life does not consist of existing in (and “as”) dead, fragmentary symbols, one habitually occurring after another ad infinituum. Most of us see the world through (and “as”) thought-oriented symbols… which isn’t really perceiving at all. Living is not symbolic, imitative, second-hand, fragmentary, indifferent, and stale. Please transcend beyond mediocrity.
Existing beyond mediocrity occurs when perception sees deeply, beyond the run-of-the-mill indifference and superficiality. To merely dwell in (and “as”) words — which are sequential, fragmentary symbols — as if they are the real thing… is accepting shadows as substantial, legitimate realities.
To mostly live as sequential, fragmentary symbols (occurring mentally) is not, perhaps, living at all. Accepting what is dead and cadaverous as “reality” may be foolish and may be clinging to the superficial and “unalive.” If unending experiences consist only of recognition, pigeonholing, categorizing, and symbolic orchestration, then such reactions may be limited, robotic, and conditioned. Going beyond this does not take time (psychologically), for psychological time is extension after extension of the conditioning and mediocrity. Fragmentary, sequential, representational words may often be needed. However, to exclusively depend on them (and exist as them) may be foolish, rather unalive, and nonsensical.
To perceive with (and “as”) an inner silence — beyond symbolic words and their limited distinctions — may manifest as a wholeness and immense awareness beyond superficiality. Then words (as symbols) have their place but do not dominate consciousness (as endless conditioning). Then, as we’ve said before, deep intelligence and compassion are manifest, alive, and act rather than merely react.
Michael Keaton perchance … Photo by Thomas Peace perchance c.2024Alien on the Spider … Photo by Thomas Peace c.2024
suppose Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.
young death sits in a café smiling,a piece of money held between his thumb and first finger
(i say “will he buy flowers” to you and “Death is young life wears velour trousers life totters,life has a beard” i
say to you who are silent.—”Do you see Life?he is there and here, or that, or this or nothing or an old man 3 thirds asleep,on his head flowers,always crying to nobody something about les roses les bluets yes, will He buy? Les belles bottes—oh hear ,pas chères”)
and my love slowly answered I think so. But I think I see someone else
there is a lady,whose name is Afterwards she is sitting beside young death,is slender; likes flowers.
When we were very young, we hadn’t yet learned things about death from society. Then we were full of innocent bliss and we truly felt eternal. Then we were not chock full of knowledge and ideas. We just timelessly looked and marveled.
As adults, most of us have been spoon-fed by a psychologically disturbed society. Most of us no longer feel eternal and timelessly blissful but, rather, feel frightened and insecure. We are afraid of the death that they told us about… about the death we had learned about. We, as adults, exist in a very linear, second-hand, and antiquated fashion. Even with our so-called “correct religious beliefs”, we fear death; beliefs often stem from fear. We fret about a lot of illusory things. It is disturbing to realize this, but it is even more disturbing not to realize it.
To be mentally youthful and untouched by the cadaverous ideas of others is a great order and intelligence.
While lingering in the very curious dark a quaint two-horse somber carriage happened by and, as it almost paused adjacent to me, Miss Dickinson peering out, smiling, said, “Won’t you hop in to savor some pie?”
We (much later passed) the School, where Children strove Happily at Recess—in the Ring And Staring, (we passed) the Fields of Gazing Grain We (without fail) passed the Setting Sun We passed those Dusky Creatures that were on the Wing
Well, the atmosphere tasted scrumptious, but the Coachman suddenly brought the whole sweet thing to a blinding halt However, Timelessness has that radiant aroma of infinity oozing out from all around it where ending simply began again with just a pinch of salt
In last week’s post, some folks, in the Comment section, mentioned something about the unknown embodying nothingness while mentioning that that is what is so terrifying; they feel safe in the “known.” Those comments got me pondering. Is nothingness (as the unknown) truly terrifying and does it take real courage to live with it psychologically?
As i’ve mentioned numerous times before… we were all very miseducated by society. This miseducation has molded us to be fearful of nothingness… to be anxious about existing in (and “as”) the unknown. It was hammered into us that the known — knowledge, knowing, and memory — is the key to security, safety, and happiness. In some limited ways, it helps with such things, but it may (fundamentally) not consist of (and fully support) lasting security, safety, and happiness. The known is fragmentary, symbolic, virtual, and limited. It is actually the known and its protrusions of “what might be” that produce fears; the unknown does not fuel this. The known and its concoction of “what could happen” is the real root of fear. In groping for security in the known, we absorb (and hold) beliefs. These beliefs were poured into us as products of knowledge that offer security. Do limited, secondhand words, suppositions, and mental images provide vast and unlimited security? Not really! In fact beliefs and absorbed religious suppositions very often divide people in the world, causing much conflict, fighting, war, and suffering. That is not profound security.
If you are not a reflection of what society has poured into you (and if you actually perceive how thoughts create fear and mental problems), then existing (psychologically) as nothingness or as the unknown may not take much courage. For me, nothingness is real bliss and is a great joy. This is because it exists beyond the limitations of symbolic, virtual, cadaverous, and stale thinking. Nothingness (beyond thinking) nullifies fragmentation and secondhanded observation. It, and it alone, allows for pristine and unadulterated observation (that is not contaminated by labels, beliefs, habits, fears, and stale, fragmentary protrusions of thought/thinking). This inner nothingness, which is holistic and uncontaminated, is real bliss, clarity, and timeless joy. (It takes no courage whatsoever to dwell in — and “as” — timeless joy… as the unknown.) The actuality is that stale thoughts and beliefs are limited, old, fragmentary, time-oriented, fear-generating, secondhand, and dark. (Granted, oftentimes rational thoughts are needed to function in life… but they are only limited tools.) The distortion of thought/thinking largely masks the joy and clarity of timeless living. Dying (psychologically) to the known is real freedom; then living and dying are not two separate things… and Death is what endless, robotic, virtual, symbolic, secondhand thinking is.
from E.E. Cummings:
dying is fine)but Death
?o baby i
wouldn’t like
Death if Death were good:for
when(instead of stopping to think)you
begin to feel of it,dying ‘s miraculous why?be
cause dying is
perfectly natural;perfectly putting it mildly lively(but
Death
is strictly scientific & artificial &
evil & legal)
we thank thee god almighty for dying (forgive us,o life!the sin of Death
If you don’t understand what living is, deeply and passionately, then you will not understand about physical death. A man (or woman) who often is psychologically dying to the dead past, to corrupt (limited) conditioning, to illusory limititations, and to robotic traditions and habits… is someone who is deeply living.
By the way, regarding physical death, it’s not what you have been told. It’s not any of the crap that people have dished out to you. It’s not that your special human soul floats away to a bliss with an anthropomorphic god or gods. It is not that when you are dead, you are dead (and that that’s it); it is not that you are reincarnated to some kind of better life; it is not that you go to some kind of heaven or hell; it is not that you float around like a ghost or specter, looking down upon everyone else. It is not what you have been told (by others). So what happens? One must find out. Intelligence must find out. I certainly am not going to tell you. It’s for deep perception to find out (and discover); it’s not for being told (for people to merely robotically believe or not believe). Again… it’s not for being told.
Ever so beautiful. … Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2021
It’s not a subject that most of us care to consider. We, most all of us, tend to push it off, avoiding thinking about it. Shortly before my wonderful wife Marla recently passed, i tenderly said to her, “If things should happen to go south with this, death will not keep us apart for very long; death is too superficial, too shallow.”
I am very appreciative of the warm condolences within my previous blog posting and in cards and letters that people have sent to me. It means a lot.
Death is not (at all) what most people think. As Walt Whitman sagaciously wrote, “And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.” There are different kinds of death/dying. There is the death of the physical body; there is the death of a mind that merely goes through life blindly accepting things according to tradition, organizations, and leaders (who, themselves are not truly living). There is the death that permeates a mind of indifference, callousness, and narcissistic behavior. (Perhaps such a mind was never truly alive whatsoever.) So many of us assume that we are living and free; we may not be.
There is, however, a dying, a “good dying,” throughout life, that can exist, psychologically, that may truly be a very highminded, splendid, and vibrant kind of living. A wise entity, who is frequently psychologically dying to dead, stale, stagnant, second-hand thoughts, may be engaging in one of the highest forms of living. As one has often said, thoughts and words are merely symbols and are, for the most part, never the actualities that they stand for and represent. However, most of us live in (and exist through) the domain of thought/thinking. (And we perceive through the screen of thought/thinking.) It’s tragic, really, and (actually) few of us are truly living. We accept authorities and organizations that are, in themselves, rather static, barbaric, and dead. We are followers, rarely thinking and discovering for ourselves. To be second-hand, repeating what was fed into you, is what computers are essentially capable of; it is also what too many of us exclusively do. We were trained to imitate and copy… not to feel and question.
My beloved wife Marla passed away on 10/07/20 due to complex complications from Wilson’s Disease. Her Hepatologist at the University of Chicago Medical Center said that it was amazing that she lived as long as she did. This makes me feel that i succeeded rather well at helping her with her illnesses. Marla was very brave and went through a lot of suffering. She was born with Wilson’s Disease, an autosomal recessive genetic disorder rendering the body to be unable to eliminate excess copper naturally. She had an auto-allergic reaction due to the penicillamine medication that she was on for Wilson’s in the past; penicillamine has a lot of very bad side-effects. At that time, she almost died from ARDS and ended up with only half-lung capacity. She suffered from dystonia — a strong tightening of the muscles involuntarily — and had to have Botox injections deep in her neck every two to three months. Due to the chronic dystonia of her neck, she had to have 8 cervical vertebrae replaced with titanium implants. She then lost the ability to swallow and had to (permanently) eat via enteral feeding (i.e., by a tube going into her stomach area). Before i retired, i was a teacher for the multiply handicapped, and — for decades — helped with enteral feeding (i.e., stomach feeding tubes) with some of my students; so i was very experienced with helping Marla with hers. Marla then had to have shoulder surgery… and then reconstructive shoulder surgery. She had Elastosis perforans Syndrome, a skin disorder (on her thighs) caused by having been on the penicillamine for years before getting on the better (less intrusive) new zinc therapy. She often told me that she had a low threshold for bearing pain but she was way more brave and stalwart than i could have ever been. Despite her pain and struggles, we had a whole lot of great, joyful times together.
I fell in love with Marla largely because of her warm and compassionate heart. She always put others first and was always thinking of others. She often made things for others, like quilts, fancy embroidery things, and homemade lotions. She was a nurse and often would take her elderly mother to the doctors. Everyone who met Marla loved her radiant, caring personality. I am so honored to be her husband.
The following is one of the E. E. Cummings poems that i read at her beautiful outdoor memorial service along the Kankakee River:
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
[Note: The common name for this Illinois woodland wildflower is Spring Beauty. The entire width of the flower is less than 1/2 inch (around one centimeter wide). This wildflower is still rather common throughout Illinois. It, fortunately, can survive more environmental disruption than most wildflowers. Its eternal essence has nothing to do with its persistence in Illinois or elsewhere.]
This is the poem that came out of the grave to tell you what death is.
Everyone has avoided the answer but here is the answer:
Death is indifference; Death is mental fragmentation; Death is accepting immorality; Death is accepting mortality; Death is belonging to separatist organizations that one thinks are “right,” and death is the limited space surrounded by boundaries.
It is very rare to see two Ambush Bugs together with a victim like this.
Two Ambush Bugs with their Bumble Bee victim on Thistle Plant … Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2018
Our wonderful, little dog, Gabby (who was over 16 years old), passed away on Monday. Marla and i really miss her! Since we don’t have human children, this hits us especially hard. That little sweetie was perfect in every way. We still have a number of other pets, including a Miniature Dachshund, Lola, (who is also quite a sweetie).
They cling to guns to feel safe while callously letting the environment go to hell. It’s all really starting to smell.
[Note: So sad that the U.S. is a country addicted to guns. Even the children have taken up shooting each other. On another note: So many fly in jets to go on vacations to “beautiful places,” or to take “beautiful” nature photos. The carbon footprint of jet travel, for human beings, is unbelievably high, massively high; there is nothing beautiful about ruining the environment. People who frequently go traveling around the world are admired by others, not by me.]
Our Dying Environment… Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2018
[Note: Most people are afraid to die psychologically, so they are never really living.]
no method no practice no effort no goal no system no beliefs no process no analysis no past no future no present no nation no religion no ideology no “shoulds” no wants no opinion no fear no escapes no thoughts no me no authority no time no tomorrow
no yesterday no separation no excuses no them no being no becoming no controller no labeling no indifference
Skipper Investigating… Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2018
[The book that I wrote (i.e., “The Eternal Fountain of Youth”) deals a lot with the existent, basal nature of eternity, consciousness, and time. This book is not for the masses. Only read the book, by the way, if you are very stable and have it together, so to speak; it is extremely strong medicine. Even though the content of the book is extremely potent, it is not really dangerous; the real danger is for us to continue in our barbaric ways without changing.]
“If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?” ― Emily Dickinson
life and death forever together. Photo by Thomas Peace c. 2016
If, each and every day, one is wisely psychologically dying to the hullabaloo and clamor of superfluous thoughts, then one isn’t afraid of the mystery of dying (as so many are). Then living and dying aren’t two separate things… nor the latter something horrible to be frightened of.
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