In the House of Death

Many people do not now truly see the beauty of life, nor do they understand the beauty of death. Thus they do not live beautiful lives, nor die beautiful deaths.

In modern culture, death is a taboo that is not to be mentioned. When it is spoken of, it is rarely done so outright, but rather scoffed at or glazed over. When death is spoken of, how often is it called “passing on”? How often does one “croak” or “kick the bucket.” To refer to death in such terms as the later is the sign of an immaturity, a child’s desire to disregard what it fears through insults. What does a person “pass on” to? Is this not sugar coating coming from members of a society without a universal spiritual concept of what that means? Does it ease the modern culture in it’s glaze of foolishness? For truly, the fool is the one who could see but refuses to look. What does this culture do but cover it’s eyes?

The modern society’s fear of death has mutated until it has caused the mental, emotional, and spiritual castration of it’s people. If my grandfather is sick and desires to die, he has lived a full life and he is going to die. If I choose to help him to end it with little pain, I may be imprisoned for murdering my willing grandfather. I will be imprisoned because I broke the taboo of a society that is so terrified of even acknowledging the idea of death, that it feels driven to extend life to it’s very limits at all cost, not caring for the suffering or unnaturalness of the act. Thus, my grandfather would live with his pain because of relations too afraid of their own deaths to face his, or a hospital committed to keeping the truth of the world hidden for as long as possible.

Here, where so many are so far removed from true ideas of death and subsequently life, that they do not connect their sustenence with it, taking it so for granted that they do not even realize that their lives depend upon it, and even less so realizing that the thing that feeds them was once alive and now has died. Here, a person removed from true existence looks through a second hand view of cultures where death is a reality, and expresses the thought that it is so sad, so unfortunate, that these people must know death. But truly, which is the less natural of the two? I say that it is the one who judges death without realizing it.

Once, death was an inevitable part of life that children were exposed to from a young age. Now, the whole of society does whatever it must to shield death from the eyes of children, and to what ends? It cannot be escaped. Inevitably, death will enter the child’s life somehow, through the death of a relative or a friend. And then, this thing of which the reality has been so well hidden, even though the word of it may be known, comes in full and overwhelming power. The parents are forced to explain, and in a time when they are likely to be disraught with grief as well. Thus, the child learns only that death is a traumatic thing that is never spoken of unless absolutely necessary, and then is met with such terror that even adults wish to forget it’s existence. I pity the nation of frightened children.

Fear of death is one of the most basic instincts of any worldy being. An instinct cannot be fully eliminated, but it can be risen above. Even with fear, one can come to acceptance and understanding. And through this, one has sight, has feeling. Even if the instincts wish to fear, the heart will not. To accept death, to come to an understanding of it, then one may see and feel the beauty within it. Then, perhaps people will begin to die beautiful deaths once again. And when they do this, they will also begin to live beautiful lives. For truly, without the one, the other cannot be had.

When the Spaniards came to Mexico, they were deeply confused, for the people took such joy in life, and yet seemed so obsessed with death. They could not understand the scent of blood mingled with the sight of flowers.