Death, An End? Or An Experience?

All of us need a purpose, without purpose life seems empty and pointless and so when we fail to find one, we create our own. Those who fail long for death, and those who succeed long for life. Of course a purpose can never be meaningless, but it can be futile. Meaningless in the sense that meaning is given to it so that one can continue to live. Futile in the sense, it reaps no apparent fruit but is capable only of stifling the urge or drive felt within for the time being hence making it rather shallow or maybe forever so that such an urge or drive is never felt and hence we might end up feeling that now we seemed to have lost our purpose to live because the satisfaction of accomplishing that futile purpose didn’t bring in the satisfaction that would make one feel that their life purpose has been fulfilled. Maybe because sometimes when we expect too much our emotions overwhelm us and thus we end up exhausting our emotions thinking about the final day and when the final day does come we feel disappointment or relief which are supposed to be inappropriate in such situations, disappointment because we didn’t feel what we expected and relief because we didn’t feel what we expected, so sort of hanging in the balance ending up feeling weird or confused and not knowing what exactly we are feeling.

So could death be the purpose of life? Death: the ultimate test of one’s ignorance and fear. In the lives that we live, we are afraid of almost anything and everything we don’t know, especially when, that which we don’t know, with the help of words, is turned into an awful experience, even though the experience wasn’t ours but another’s, our imagination takes us onto a wild ride of how the other person might have experienced it and come to the conclusion that it must be awful. All our lives we are conditioned to believe a number of things, including the knowledge (factual or ignorant is unknown but then again even so called facts are changed from time to time) that death is a bad experience and it must be avoided at all costs. Maybe we end up believing in this especially because of the pain we “believe” others feel during death but we overlook a number of things in the rush of our empathetic endeavour (maybe that’s where the word pathetic was derived and for good enough reason). Cancer is painful, mutilation of one’s body in an accident is painful, diarrhoea is painful, piles is painful, breaking a bone is painful, being hit in the head is painful, even the needle of an injection can be painful (you get the point), where as death is nothing more but a release from all of this pain.

We are made to celebrate our birth (becoming alive) in the form of birthdays maybe due to the fear that it’s not going to be an easy ride so we should rather have an optimistic outlook along with something to look forward to all the while living in ignorance of death which actually rids us from all the miseries that “being alive” had bestowed upon us and yet we continue to fear it. Maybe because it’s inevitable nature makes us feel afraid about the idea of having enough time to be prepared to face it, because let’s face it, we prefer preparing for something that is deemed as unpleasant so that we can reduce the unpleasantness from the experience to as much extent as possible.

'Till next time!
;)