So next week I'm going into the hospital for knee surgery. The operation is to remove a cyst that is sitting in a hole in my bone just below my knee. All the doctors have to do is take out the cust and do a bone graft to fill in the hole. Sounds pretty simple, doesn't it?
So why are there so many silly little nagging fears nipping at the back of my brain? I've been trying to drown them in mochaccino all day, but that didn't work, and now I'm on a caffeine high and these worries are still yipping in a high-pitched, mortality-fearing chihuhua bark accented with irritating what-if's.
I love metaphors, don't you?
So maybe I fear death a little. No, that's not true, I fear the dying more than I do the death. I may have a high-tolerance for pain, but that doesn't mean I'm a fan of it. The question is, does dying hurt? Anne Rice seems to think so (her Children of Darkness die painfully before they become the blood-sucking demons we love), but the cultish new-age whitelighters don't, what with all their incarnations of Atlantis. And of course I'm more inclined to favour the metaphysical theories of a vampire-chasing gothic novelist than the "go towards the light" fluffbunnies, but still, the idea that dying is painful is not a comforting thought.
I'm not afraid of death itself, though, mainly because I'm one for reincarnation; our souls, spirits, life force, whatever, don't die with our bodies. Instead, we gain wisdom and experience with each life before passing on to the next. That way, the cycles of life keep learning to grow and change instead of completely repeating themselves.
And IMHO, we shouldn't be afraid of death. In our culture there's an obsession with youth and long life and avoiding death. Actually, death is something of a taboo subject here, when really, death is just another part of life. Yes, it's sad when we lose someone we love, but we'll meet them again later, so it's not like they're lost forever.
In any case, I do not have any kind of belief in heaven or hell. It's such a silly concept, that this life is the only chance we get. What a terminal and fearful way of viewing existance. If you're "good" you get to go to heaven, but if you're "bad" you go to hell and roast for eternity. So who gets to decide what's "good" and "bad"? God? Yeah, right. You already know my view on the bible (see Fundies and Their Little Black Book), and we'll leave my views of deity for another day. Besides, since I don't see the universe in terms of good and evil, why would I believe that the afterlife is determined according to those characteristics?
Death. Such a straightforward word for something so intricate and elusive. *sigh* Ah well, my buzz has worn off, and I've got a surgery to prepare for. See you in the recovery room. I remain,
apocrypha
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