Saturday, July 9, 2016

Will You Miss Me After I'm Stuffed Into That Box?

Duh?! I mean, Come .. ON! Of course, this is a rhetorical question, you dolt. What did you expect in coming here for THAT answer? Cosmic Wisdom? Advice from an old Tibetan Sage? Guidance from a seer of the Astrological Star alignments or a combination of numbers assigned to your given name? Advice shared to a select few government officials at Area 51 by alien visitors? The poor unfortunate homeless man with a direct mind-link to God, himself? How far should you stretch your imagination to seek the truth?

The short answer is, if you care enough, you might. If you don't, you won't. From my I.U. Philosophy class in 1968, the answer becomes ... "we are all food for worms" .. until the day that Soylent Green is actually invented and broadly utilized. My conspiracy theory is that certain fast-food restaurants already have the secret formula, but are still calling it something else.

Who were all these people? What did they do? How did they live?
As I slowly cruise through through the final resting places of my beloved ancestors and loved ones, it quickly becomes evident that other people have lived, loved and won or lost have closed their eyes for the final time for various reasons totally unknown to me. What happened after that? There are large funerals and small funerals and while attendance is not mandatory, it seems obligatory nevertheless. "We must pay our respects." 

For Display Only ..
They send expensive flower displays which are unceremoniously dumped a few days later in a hidden compost pile in the back of the cemetery somewhere. Other times, funeral directors call upon a random person to decide which arrangements go with the casket to the grave site while the balance are sent to various churches to decorate their Sunday worship or to old folks homes to remind them that they have outlived another person.

The funeral attendees admire the displays and make assessments about how much was spent in "respect" for the deceased, compared to others .. followed by rationalizations and excuses for those of lesser means and condemnation of those who could afford more but spent less. I've been through enough of these in my life and I can say, with a certain degree of experience, that I've "almost" heard it all.

I've heard touching ceremonies, loving eulogies and thoughtful comments in passing about the beloved dead. As an observer, some folks are just better actors than others. They're all glad the guy in the box isn't them, but they haven't seen or talked with the guy in a long time. Where was all this empathy coming from? It must take some deep digging into one's soulful background to dredge up the sincerity. I never sit in judgement of other folks based upon my observations. I assume everyone is honest in their grief.

I guess I shouldn't concern myself with the minutia of the grief cycle. The fact is, that belongs to others. I'll be long gone along my Celestial Journey to wherever I go next. It's easy to be an Existentialist. It's a very simple philosophy. As my I.U. Professor once wrote in his poem simply called, "Death" .. "Stiff Toes". That was it. I dare you to re-read the poem and not try to bend your toes either IN or OUT of your shoes.

From the Existentialism For Dummies Cheat Sheet, I quote ~ "Existence precedes essence: Sartre's phrase to describe the existential situation humans find themselves in. It refers to the fact that when you're born, you have no meaning, no purpose, no definition. Human beings exist first, and only later define themselves."

What does that have to do with the emotionalism of loss? Not much .. well, nothing, actually. Emotional loss is a human emotional behavior. When there is no emotional attachment associated, the pain of loss is lessened to the level of zero. The reactions of those who take the time, effort and energies to attend the funeral floor show are all relative to that individual level of emotional attachment.

I remember when my grandfather passed away when I was 15. I took it pretty hard. So hard, in fact, I could not witness the effects his death had on anyone else, but grandma and mom. His was also the first time in my life I had experienced death. It was a mystery. It was unknown and it hurt deep inside. I took the church dogma as gospel. His pain was over. He was in a better place.

While it was true his heart pain was over, there can be no better place than being surrounded by those who love you. We were all still here, in this reality. How could this be?

While I've never forgotten my grandfather .. in fact, I used to pray to him in my youth because I believed he could still hear me. I saw him in dreams. I wanted him to come back and be with grandma - where he belonged.

Being absent from family, creates a distance whereby upon my death, the pain of loss will be slight. There will be no negative pulse flowing through "the Force" .. not that anyone could feel, anyway. It still takes hundreds of souls to influence a Jedi, but we all know how quickly that passes.

I don't know why I even spend the time to write these thoughts into a public domain rather than my private journal software. This post may be construed as a desperate call to the Universe for a solution, a reason, a meaning to be. The Universe doesn't speak. It just is .. and so am I.

 That's it.


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