Death – muse part 6

I’ve realized one thing. Either I blog or I write a diary entry. Cant do both. There’s a reason behind it. Its called mental exhaustion. Just like your body gets physically tired, so does your mind and your intellect.

This entry is about death. Probably the seventh meditation of Rene Descartes is a fictional idea. But it really did get me thinking. This text (the seventh meditation) in the book (fictional, ofcourse) I was reading  was banned for its ideas on death. The concept of non-mortus, or the undead was blasphemous in the last few hundreds of years. The concept which states that burial rituals originated in order to keep the dead, well; dead and prevent them from rising – especially children who woke up on the 10th day after their death to live a life of the undead with their bodies deteriorating gradually till they reach the 21st year of their undead existence. On that day if they haven’t yet found their soul which has reincarnated into someone else since their death, they would finally die. Also, latin is fluently spoken by the undead. A way of distinguishing them from the alive ones.

All this is fictional ofcourse. But still, it really got me thinking about the number of books and texts that were and are probably out there somewhere containing concepts unacceptable and unnatural by certain institutions. Though I really don’t understand how anything that already exists, a concept supported by nature itself can be even remotely unnatural. But I guess people are that stupid. So, my point is; there is so much knowledge out there, hidden probably for a couple of centuries, destroyed even by a couple of idiots, or confiscated by a couple of institutions today that we don’t even have access to. Such a tragedy.

Death is a natural thing. Inevitable. But unspoken of. Atleast mostly people don’t entertain the idea of death. Mainly because it brings about a feeling of hopelessness, a certain end, a separation from all that we know. But that’s because most people don’t believe that there is life after death. Either an afterlife that’s not on earth, or a reincarnation – a chance (innumerable even) of starting over. We all grow up knowing certain things. Either we stick with it, or we stick with it and further develop it, or we completely shy away from it. Its too complex a web, a human being. To put him in a box while he is alive and nail shut his coffin is an injustice to all that he is capable of being. Time and time again I write in almost every poem I’ve written and will write, that we are always walking. There are choices to be made, and consequences to be faced. We will die, but we will be born again. All this to continue to walk. We will always walk till we finally arrive at a destination meant for us.

That destination is not death. Death is merely like a bunch of pit stops along the way, to pump in petrol in order to continue driving.

Death is beautiful. Its an end to suffering in the current life. Its a chance to start over in another. A chance to be what you couldn’t be previously.

 

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