“Reach a certain moment in your life, and you discover that your days are spent as much with the dead as they are with the living.”
quoting Paul Auster from Hand to Mouth
Death is a concept that fails to sit comfortably in my mind. I don’t have a religion to turn to when I hear that another friend has died. I haven’t found the inner peace to allow complete acceptance of death for people who aren’t elderly.
I feel a sorrow for the friends who have died because of the things that they have not and will not experience. I spend time thinking about them, thinking to them, because if there’s one thing I feel certain of it’s that they are still “there.” I believe in some sort of continued existence despite a lack of physical existence, but what it really is and what it contains is, at this point in my life, unexplainable.
It’s a “personal religion” that I’m developing. The pre-structured thing doesn’t offer enough for me (though I do maintain an ignorance for the finite detail of all religions). I believe in learning, and as I continue in life the answers will slowly unravel.
I will defend myself now and say that I’m not a morbid person. It just seems that there’s a lot of strange happenings going on in the world. I suppose Sydney’s a slightly sheltered place – we don’t have our tragedies greater than the occasional hail storm or slight tremor. But I have friends around the world, and when I hear of shootings and nailbomb attacks I suppose it sets me thinking..