Human nature is baffling. Our fear of death would make one think that only a few unlucky ones are headed in that direction. In the past few weeks, the world has mourned the lives of the unfortunate individuals who were aboard the Air France plane which allegedly disintegrated on top of the Atlantic Ocean or Neda, the beautiful Iranian girl whose life was ended by a bullet while protesting the controversial presidential election results. It has been said that men would like to go heaven but do not want to die yet the surest way of going to heaven is through death.
Human nature is baffling. Our fear of death would make one think that only a few unlucky ones are headed in that direction. In the past few weeks, the world has mourned the lives of the unfortunate individuals who were aboard the Air France plane which allegedly disintegrated on top of the Atlantic Ocean or Neda, the beautiful Iranian girl whose life was ended by a bullet while protesting the controversial presidential election results. It has been said that men would like to go heaven but do not want to die yet the surest way of going to heaven is through death.
Such are the paradoxes of life. In birth we celebrate the continuation of life through children. These children are perceived to be as innocent, and as angelic as a human being can possibly be, except for the legendary sins of Adam and Eve, for the Christians, which they can only rid themselves by baptism.
In these children, our strongest human sentiments are provoked. Old hateful humans find in the deepest of their souls the tiniest tint of love for young souls. Yet all of us, with our sinful lives were once children. From that innocence grows the pervasions common in life.
We learn to steal without guilt, lie without batting an eyelid. Our jealousies cloud our rational thinking, and our greed overcomes the need for common good.
We lose touch with our humanity and strive for material wealth and satisfaction to bodily desires. We become arrogant and show open disregard of the have-nots because we have, yet we were once have-nots ourselves.
Ironically, the only thing that brings back to earth, literary, is death. It courts us, gives us opportunities to live out the last moments of our lives, sometimes not, before it closes down on us and sends us back to where we belong. Therefore, our fear of death is inexplicably mysterious.
Perhaps the only thing that is certain in our lives is death (and perhaps taxes) and the rest is up to us. I am one of those who hope that death is just not the end of it all, even with all the prologues promises of a paradise or hell of which there is no evidence of.
If it were, how would it be for those fellows whose bodies are lying somewhere in the ocean, perhaps devoured by sharks for no apparent fault of their own, or for the Neda’s of this world, who live a life of obscurity and as they are about to wed, are snatched away from life, by a stranger’s bullet and suddenly become heroes in death or martyrs?
Would it be fair for their book to end without ceremony as it has or would it be fairer for life on earth to constitute of just a chapter before which or after which life exists or continues?
Perhaps death would make more sense, then. When people know that death is just a transition not an end to it all, perhaps we will be ready.
As we pursue good virtues amidst our sinful human nature, our inherent wish to be angelic and our self professed love for wealth and prestige it might be a nice ting to think about the day when we have to go.
Have an insightful Sunday.