Have you heard the news that you’re dead?
If not dead, then at least dying. It’s been this way since you were born.
An unfolding pandemic makes it harder for me to evade this matter. Death tolls are now part of my daily life. Graphs make grim predictions of my future, or lack thereof. My neighbour’s chatter is not about sports and reality TV but about their auntie who faced death and against all odds survived, and their uncle who did not. Beyond the pandemic, the memory of departed family and friends – some long gone, some never really gone – remind me that life is indeed a brief candle. Memento mori, mea amor.
To those still among the living, how long do you think you are going to live? How are you seizing the day/s? Have you made any preparations for what comes next, material, spiritual or otherwise? Does the possibility/certainty of death colour your days with overtones of optimism or undertones of pessimism? Sadness or joy? All or none of the above?
Do you believe you are free in spite of death or because of it? Do you find death oppressive or liberating? Do you believe in fate, destiny? If so, how much are you loving it right now? How are you living it? And, finally, how does your being towards death shape your tending towards anarchy?