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October 12th, 2003
05:24 am
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(Copied and pasted from my response to someone else's journal entry. I'm not reposting it here for any particular reason; it doesn't mean I'm doing any significant thinking about death. Rather, just because it just seemed so profound.)

I think I've made my peace with the idea of physical death as return to the void. (Of course, there's no way to test that short of staring it in the face. I can only offer the best results of my introspection here.)

And, having made my peace with the possibility (or likelihood) that the void awaits and anything to the contrary really might be a tidy piece of evolutionary psychology, I have embraced said "evolutionary psychology" (or at least one particular and deeply felt interpretation of it) with a passion.

It's the only sane choice.

Staring at the void is transformative; living on the edge is not. If what we do in this life matters even a whit, then we have a moral duty to ourselves to get as much out of life as we can. And you just can't live when the smelly demon dog of darkness is pissing on your leg all the time. Even if he really is sitting in the corner, grinning patiently and waving his fecal-smelling tentacles, the only sane course of action is to ignore him. Run, shout, devour, fly, fuck; take awe from the sacred, take pleasure from the profane, endure pain from the unholy.

And then, when he catches up to you, one night, in some dark alley, smile and say, "If you're here for me, then you catch everyone, sooner or later. I couldn't have escaped you if I'd spent my life running, or deterred you if I'd spent it begging. So I did the best I could, and, dammit, you may not be keeping score, but as far as I'm concerned, I won."

Current Mood: thoughtfulthoughtful
Current Music: Final Fantasy Tactics soundtrack, "Count's Anger"

(2 comments | Leave a comment)

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Date:October 12th, 2003 01:10 pm (UTC)
Uhh. But smelly-tentacle-death-breath caught you. He wins. Game over. No refunds or replays.
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Date:October 12th, 2003 04:16 pm (UTC)
Weird you should post about this topic, I had a little epiphany this morning.

I was thinking about death in general, mostly sparked from this religious pamphlet stuck on my door by some local church yesterday. I read through it a bit, just for the hell of it, and while it obviously didn't sell me on anything, it did get me thinking about the whole life after death thing.

Anyway, this morning, groggy and watching Shawshank Redemption (a most awesome movie I might add) I was thinking about this stuff and it struck me why I have never, even in my worst hours, been able to go through with suicide. It isn't because I fear that there is nothing more when we die, but because I firmly believe that there is something more. Not that I fear any punishment, I don't believe in that, though I believe you can create your own hell though. No, it's that I believe I will have wasted all this time I've been here, that eveyrthing I have suffered through and for would have been for nothing if I don't complete this life naturally.

I love it when you are thinking about something and it all makes sense in one clear moment. Even better when some of that stays with you after that moment is gone...
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