Fear ran wild and dug into his stomach.
(He’s like William Wallace in that kilt…)
The voice of a musket rumbled nearby:
“Death will not see you alive.”
Eunice
In some countries there is a cult of Saint Catherine or Saint Death. In the houses on the altars there are multi-colored candles and figurines of a woman with a beautiful chiseled figure in different styles of clothing, but the head, skull, arms, legs, respectively, are the bones of the skeleton. And in places of sale are statuettes of Santa Muerte and the Virgin Mary
stand next to each other, and often intermingled on the same shelf.
Fans of the first prefer to believe that a person dies and remains bones. They remain part of the energy. (That is why various holy relics are so popular).
A trace remains. Proof that a person has been in this world. As much as he could and as he managed. And Death (the more loyal of them) evens it all out. Even if Life divided a lot.
The Virgin Mary is a part of the story in which, after death, a person ends up in a beautiful (or terrible) place, that is, his division continues even after death. no matter how strongly bound there are not only on the shelves. And it seems to me that it would not be so important to decorate one of the figurines with flowers, if it were not for one question that people have been asking since time immemorial and which has become very important – what is there? After?
I personally agree with the idea that this is not the issue at all. And in the one who asks. This very body, which is endowed with this awareness, perception of what is happening, will truly cease to exist. Who then asks this question further, who do we believe is still inside, who cares to know what will happen next? Who will participate in the future if the body disappears (that we know for sure)? And we also know that someone still remains. And we worry about him. What if a part of us “falls asleep” or “dies”, and at the moment of death another part of us “comes to life”.
This is the one we know about, but which does not participate in this life. Then it turns out that just one part of our consciousness changes another, like a dream and reality, like the seasons, like masquerade costumes. As one wise person said, when we die, we simply wake up from what we thought we were. And I’m terribly sorry that it’s not in our culture and we weren’t taught from childhood to celebrate death, as something that a person starts a new, I would say even “in principle” new life. In which it will be better and easier (at least there will be no old or sick body).
I think the pain would be a little less then. Of course, the weight of the loss would not go anywhere, but this weight would be understood and accepted, that it is only about myself, how am I now Without … But for the one who left, there would be joy, because there would be confidence – There is good! And everything around would support this… I would like to somehow finish these thoughts, but only the quote of Epicurus comes to mind “When we are, then death is not yet, and when death comes, then we are no longer” at least in the form from which we see all this , read, feel, realize…
