Thinking about death is good for you

When you sit to measure your time on earth in thoughts, in work accomplished, in phone calls made, in dinners, in tears wept, in throwing a fit, in harbouring a grudge, in dreaming, in planning- all of it is about control. Flat packing oneself into routines and rituals that may or may not be productive or conducive, but only because it makes sense in an existential way. We are trained to exist in patterns that are rigid, that define activities that take much from us than deepen our sense of self.

The deeper sense of self is instilled to be perfect with no room for giving up on something that no longer pleases one, or making mistakes or failing. We are never taught to be content or the simple act of stopping, its always try and try and try to outrun.

And then there are moments when thinking about death has made me visualise slipping into a sudden gap from which I can no longer savour books, sip black coffee or meet with a loved one. However there is a very bit of comfort there; only if you have cherished each of those books and coffee and loved one. Such relative mindfulness brings up the scene from the movie A Single Man- the character played by Matthew Goode says ‘what could be better than being tucked up here with you…if i died right now, it would be okay! For me, it meant falling invisibly into the comfort of that moment, as an extension, where above the surface there is content and below the surface there is a acceptance and letting go.

Here’s a picture with a pocket for the goat smell, the warm fur between my fingers, the feeling of grass, the stain it made on my fingers when I plucked it and the sound of a happy goat chomping it.

Put yourself into people, into flowers, into words in such a lively way that when you think of death it just slipping deeper into a content moment.

The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins.-Edgar Allan Poe.

Just know where your life begins and dont bother where it ends.