I have this anxiety problem that used to be compounded by an even worse fear of death. I seem to have gotten to a point where death no longer seems like something to fear, however. I am still neurotic as all hell and I know I would potentially become scared shitless if I was imminently going to die, but I do not lose touch with reality like I used to. Partially because I am better at relaxing and knowing what situations set me off (the ones where I lose control...) but largely because the thought "maybe this is the end," does not freak me out like it used too. The actual notion of death is alright which brings me to my thoughts on existence:
We are all miraculously here, and we are all going to unceremoniously go back to where we came from. The elements in our body will rejoin with the Earth, and the energy we used in life will unleash itself back into the cosmos. Some people call this the spirit.
The human body is like a car. And just like a car, we age and break, and one day we wont start. Unlike a car, we cannot be restored. As a child, I wanted to be God and make things perfect, like cars and machinery in general. I would go around and look at all the imperfections in everything and fantasize about fixing it. When I started noticing my own physical imperfections, I longed to make myself perfect physically. Eventually I had a lot of anger that made me realize I could not be perfect in terms of what society likes. I searched for other viewpoints. Viewpoints that view the establishment with hostility. I no longer wish to be a perfect mechanical specimen like a car, or to change the environment to be "perfect." And now I question the logic that led to the desire for perfection in the first place. The thought that we need perfect bodies with 11 inch penises so that we can go out and properly pave the mountains to create clean sterile environments to build factories where we can all make perfect swiss watches and come home with our fat paychecks to take sexy long shiny haired vixens out to dinner in an effort to have a chance to procreate and make the next generation of utter perfection. Death does not perfectly fit that model. That is where Christianity comes in. But I wont get into that.
Point is, I used to buy into all of this. I would tell my friends that I was going to be elected God and pave over the forests. Nature was imperfect. It needed to be tamed.
Well I am older now, and I realize we grew from nature. Just like fungus. And I am not giving a dismal critique of humanity by comparing us to fungus. I do have a painful love for people in general and especially those close to me. But fungus can be very beautiful and fungus should be recognized. Our own judgements stand in the way of truth and inner and outer harmony. We judge fungus as imperfect. We judge ourselves as imperfect. We try to create perfection with technology such as Swiss watches, BMW's, the entire city of Dubai. These are things that can be fixed if they break. Fungus however, we try to kill, (unless it is of the mushroom or truffle variety) we hate fungus, especially if it is growing on our precious, perfect creations. We lose sight of the fact that like the fungus we so hate, we arose from the Earth. As a result of this collective dissociation we try to conquer death and make ourselves into machinery that can be fixed like an Aston Martin V12. Or for some of us, like a Chevy iron duke 4 cylinder. It is a losing battle. We are meant to return to the Earth just like the fungus. Some of us will not make peace with that fact, but ultimately it will happen and in the end death, not Sam Colt, is the great equalizer. Peace.
We just have to figure out what the hell it is that motivates us individually to want to tune ourselves properly to fit the different seasons of our lives and to go through the changes gracefully.
