Kevin's Watch

Death, you could call it the final rite of passage, has for obvious reasons been both individually and collectively one of the major preoccupations of humanity since day one. It pervades our existence and over the course of our lives each of us must make our own peace with this most inevitable of facts. Some of us will have found strength in beliefs of a continued existence post-mortem, others will have come to terms with a finality and found their lives easier to 'get on with' thereby. Yet others will pin their hopes on science to ultimately defeat death, or even on the more obscure theories of constant repetitions or infinite copies in order to make the problem more manageable - and of course there are those for whom existence is a curse and their every sentient moment a scream for the release of oblivion.

Death can however be robbed of much of its sting by a holistic viewing of the world. During a recent run out in the car (with my wife doing the driving) I became entranced by a particularly beautiful valley through which we were passing (streams, trees, glades and the like) and became briefly convinced that in terms of the whole, individual small passings were of minimal or even no significance. We are what we are, where we are -and it's right that it's so. In my almost transcendental frame of mind that day, death, even my own separate identity seemed to become boardered on the illusory and the fleeting passage of life absorbed into the bigger picture. I'm hard headed enough to recognise this kind of escapism for what it is, but who knows - maybe I was just granted a glimpse .........

[Edit: Life has actual existence, death only metaphysical. Discuss.][/i]

I think you're on the right track, peter.

Wow, I was waxing lyrical yesterday Ali wasn't I!

peter wrote:I became entranced by a particularly beautiful valley through which we were passing (streams, trees, glades and the like) and became briefly convinced that in terms of the whole, individual small passings were of minimal or even no significance.

That was awesome.
Sometimes with beauty... it's like you can reach right through it, or into it, and hopefully touch something eternal.

Reminds me of one of my favorite parts of one of my favorite books... the main character is on one of the most tragic journeys of her life and... suddenly, she sees the gorgeous valleys around her in a beautiful light.
And it's as though a voice is calling to her saying, "Why should you not dance?"
But then she suppresses that impulse as foolish.

You also remind me of a series of poems on that "undiscovered country, from whose bourne no traveller returns, that makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others we know not of."
It started with this one, called, "The Stirrup-Cup."

the Hon. John Hay wrote:My short and happy day is done,
The long and dreary night comes on,
And at my door the pale horse stands
To carry me to unknown lands.

His whinny shrill, his pawing hoof,
Sound dreadful as a gathering storm;
And I must leave this sheltering roof
And joys of life so soft and warm.

Tender and warm the joys of life,-
Good friends, the faithful and the true;
My rosy children and my wife,
So sweet to kiss, so fair to view.

So sweet to kiss, so fair to view:
The night comes down, the lights burn blue;
And at my door the pale horse stands
To bear me forth to unknown lands.

But "The Stirrup-Cup" sparked at least two poems in response - people saying - "No, no... here is what I would write if I were writing in this way on this topic!"
Here's the first response:

General E.P. Alexander wrote:But storm and gloom and mystery
Shall only nerve my courage high;
Who thro' life's scenes hath borne his part
May face its close with tranquil heart.
No trembling hand will grasp the rein,
No craven soul the path will trace;
This life has not been mine in vain,
In unknown lands I'll seek my place.
I drain the cup and boldly face
The heritage of the human race,
Whose birthright 'tis to pierce the gloom
And solve the mystery of the tomb.
I follow some, and others lead
From whom my soul would ne'er divide.
One fate for all. Where moves the great
Procession, there let me abide.

And then the third, by a man who had seen both poems, is here.

Okay, I want to say more, but I think I'm tired after all that...

Wonderful stuff Linna: I went looking for the third and then got so caught up in the others I forgot what I was there for!

+JMJ+

I think that there's a sizable element of truth in what you write, excepting your tendency to make of the Person nothing but an evanescence -- an epiphenomenon of Reality -- destined for dissolution in the Oneness.

(Of course, you prolly knew that I'd say something like that. )

It had occurred to me Wos - but I just wonder, is that such a terrible thing? Are we not made greater thereby?

I've been doing a bit of myth reading of late, and although I'm not sure if this has been expressly stated, is it not the case that the price we have paid for the adoption of a monotheistic world view has been the introduction of existential angst into the human condition? Early animist and ancestor worshipping societies were in intimate contact with their Gods and departed loved ones, and the notion that they were lost or not present at all times would never have crossed their minds: That they were invisible was of little significance to them. Similarly the fact that they themselves would someday join them in this simply altered, but still very much present condition, would never be in question.

I've observed before in here that certain questions that Christians love to wrestle with don't parse under a pagan/Pagan world view. The most obvious is that Pagans don't have to behave a certain way to get into their equivalent of heaven -- everybody goes, regardless. (Although that's not 100% true; the Norse, for example, had a couple of different levels of afterlife, and where you went after you died depended on whether you died in battle and some other stuff. But I don't believe anyone went to the Christian equivalent of Hell.)

And peter, not to be contrary, but animist beliefs still exist today. Not long ago, I read about a conversation between a modern-day anthropologist and an Ojibwe Indian. The white guy asked the Ojibwe guy whether he thought rocks were sentient, and the Ojibwe guy said, "Some rocks are." That seems crazy to the Western mind, but if your spiritual tradition teaches you to look at the world and everything in it as imbued with Spirit (for lack of a better term), then it's not crazy at all.