I write on death to express some feelings about my life that I feel are atypical and unconventional, yet insightful. This ties into my philosophy of sanity and the compulsion to be “in” rather than “out”, but I don’t explicitly mean to talk about mental states here. Just about my own, in fact. I love life. I love the opportunity to explore existence and experiences and to gain all sorts of knowledge and wisdom from the various interactions that play out as time progresses. I love to engage in intellectual debates, to explore and indulge in artistic creativity and destruction, and the ironic fluctuations between chaos and order that define the refinement of an artistic skill. I love embodying a philosophy through martial arts and the art of love making, I love the depiction of ideals and mythical themes in visual and theatrical arts, and I love how even our daily lives include the magic of exploring different dimensions of reality in our dreams. I love how the metaphysical is blended homogeneously with the physical. To me, life truly is like a dream. I cannot understand it any other way. Too often do I find myself asking what is the essence or meaning of a thing, why do things happen the way that they do, how can there be so much change but such consistency in being at the same time? I have discovered that I am truly, first and foremost, a philosopher.
I only care for the highest good, and everything else, be it a thing that’s good in and of itself or not, is just another way to engage in and enjoy this metaphysical intercourse. I’ve gone mad, and there’s no getting me back. I understand that though I am a rare thing – not because of my philosophizing, but because of my personal uniqueness and love for beauty – I do not have to resist or fight the world to maintain my individuality from it. I am like the one who has left Plato’s cave, coming back to enjoy in the endeavors of my fellow cave-dwellers, but I recognize that others have their moments of awakening as well. I know I’m not the only one who sees beyond sight. How could I be? But still, our selfish desire to live has us resisting death in all too uncomfortable ways. It’s not that I would like to die, or that I am simply waiting for it, but if I were to die today, I would be thankful that I got to live at all.
I do not see my life in terms of our social interactions. To me, that’s merely the flavor of the month, changing with the whims and wishes of us people who manufacture this social reality. I believe the individual comes first, and everything else is upheld by the individual to be in service to the individual. After all, if no one was here, what would be the point of anything? That may seem like a farfetched romantic sentiment, but it’s entirely likely that we may just wipe ourselves from existence sometime in the future, and what good are accomplishments and wisdom to the dead. I see life as the day before the night, as the waking hours before the drift to that unconscious part of sleep before the next dream begins again.
I’ve lost enough to feel like there’s no reason to fear loss. Of course, I am not impartial to what could or might be lost. I am human and I like my security just like everyone else. But if things were changed drastically, and many losses were suffered, I would die before I spent my days wishing for the past to return. Socrates described philosophy as the preparation for death and dying, and contemplating the philosophy of enlightenment seems to be exactly this. Oddly enough, I am so in love with the diverse range of existence, I see value and meaning in something like nihilism. What else could be such a cure for the anxieties of life’s struggles? Do you feel too strongly? Try not caring about feeling at all! But like enlightenment, this philosophy is not meant for life, but life’s end. In the final moments of anything, you must come to terms with whatever results, and thinking of it as a gamble really helps. It’s tragic to see someone so disturbed by existence that they feel they must die, but I understand. I am not suicidal anymore, and as I stated, I love existing, but death will be such a relief when it comes. My trouble is that I wish to enjoy existence, but I am reluctant to toil and suffer for the things that I wish to enjoy. Only reluctant though, because I will still engage in whatever work must be done whole-heartedly and voluntarily, but that doesn’t mean I’ll like it as much as the pay-off.
Humans are indeed peculiar things. It’s the main reason that I feel as though there is something about us that is subjectively quite worthy of the immensely selfish tendency for ego-centrism, however destructive that may turn out to be. Returning to my musings about life and death however, I cannot see life as anything other than a temporary experience, like wandering until there’s something different worth doing. We exist, but not for any objective purpose. The meaning of life is the meaning we make for it and give to it, and every individual’s primary right is to live by their own values (it is the only thing that cannot be taken away). We can discuss morality and ethics all we want, but last I checked the virtuous and truly noble sought to serve rather than to direct or control. Serving as a teacher is somewhat ironic then, as you control what is taught, but let the dog loose from its leash one it awakens to its own agency. In a way, I’m incredibly interested in death. I want to know what it’s like so much that I’ve debated and attempted having lucid dreams in which I die in the most fantastic and mind-blowing fashion, just to observe myself while it’s happening. Nothing gruesome, but have you ever wondered what being pulled into a black hole was like? All of the anxiety and stress of existence is simply uncomfortable, but what’s more uncomfortable is the depression of not being able to do as you please without fear of not having a home or food to eat. Apparently, we shouldn’t worry about this, but trust that if we are oriented towards the highest good, our efforts will take us nowhere else, and what is needed will be accounted for. Personally, I think it’s because nothing is needed but the opportunity for choice, but that’s a different contemplation for a different article.
Life is personal. It should be common knowledge that people live differently according to personal differences, but the unenlightened, un-awakened, or unwise (call it what you want) insist on delusions. It really does seem like they are more thing than person, and I cannot help but think that such a condition is like the death of one’s soul despite the fact that I know I’m wrong in my judgments. But this eradication of autonomy is exactly the hell I am avoiding for the sake of my heaven. I do not dream to return to the blissful ignorance of childhood; I just want my work and efforts to transform into something beautiful for all of us to enjoy, to make this awakened suffering worth its salt. I wish we didn’t put so much effort into insisting that everybody sacrifice their individuality just to fit into our arbitrarily made social order (It’s a pity society necessarily alienates the individual). I wish people were allowed to exist in different cultures without mutual condemnation. I wish that people knew there was no better gift than the opportunity to have a life worth death. But also, I wish that people looked at death more amiably, instead of panicking when they realize how often they waste effort on staying out of trouble. I’ve been in trouble quite a lot, and though I’ve managed to avoid the worst kinds, I still have my fair share of pain and sorrow to remember. These are only wishes though, but if there’s anything you should understand from my philosophy, it’s the significance of wisdom and remembering the beauty of a free day.