Not Regarding Death

Last night at 3-something a.m., I woke up with a clear sense of what it means to be mortal. Probably the thought was spurred by turning 32-years old yesterday. It felt like I had the material in my head for a truly profound blog post about death and living with the knowledge of death. All I remember is that the thought consisted of a kind of astonishment--focusing especially on the matter that I was going to die. But then my alarm clock went off and I was freezing, so I practically sprinted to a warm shower. Then I had to teach a class. Then I went to a "faculty-forum" luncheon, and now, somehow, I can't remember any of the content that I saw so clearly last night. Funny, isn't it? Today, all I can do is quote Walt Whitman's under-appreciated line:
Death, death, death, death, death.
What could anyone add? I mean I've read Socrates' Apology, and been momentarily persuaded. I've read all kinds of stuff about death--but it's all worthless at 3 a.m. Indeed, "fear" isn't the primary way I relate to the idea of death. It's more like wonder. Somebody say something profound about death. I dare you.


Wishydig said...

Praised be the fathomless universe
For life and joy and for objects and knowledge curious;

Casey said...

";" ???