Indomite Man

Why do human beings need purpose, need a structure to their lives, need beliefs and hope that the cycle of life is not all that there is? Generally, human beings like to believe that there is an immortality awaiting them after death, or if not immortality a cycle in which someone is reincarnated into various things. The point is that a person never really dies in the grand scheme of things. Even further, why do we mourn the dead when death is a natural occurence that inevitably happens to all. Should we not celebrate life at a funeral, thus better preparing the living for the inevitable. Tribal peoples seem to understand this concept. In Tibet there is a tribe that conjugates and drags huge stones weighing tons to the river -- a mile away -- in rememberance of a loved one and his contribution to the community. What a way to celebrate life, of doing something honorable for a part of the community. In Africa, there is another tribe who has intricate ceremonies for a person after they die which makes the people of the tribe confront death (by use of costumes and other personification) and thus confront their fear of it. When one of these tribesman dies he is well prepared for it and well respected (and remembered) by the entire tribal community. The life cycle is understood. Americans fear death because we are never really prepared for it. Becoming old is something undesirable in our culture because physical beauty fades, mental capacity fades, hair grows more in the nose than on the head. Although go-tees compensate for the loss of hair on the head, I suppose. But the point is that younger generations do not think about getting old or retiring until they are thirty or so because they distance themselves from even the thought of it. Granted, dwelling on the thought of death and a limited life can distract a person from truly living, but accepting that a person has only one rather short life can greatly encourage that person to do something benevolent with it, something worthwhile.

Will I be remembered? By anyone? For how long until the memory of me is forgotten? How will I be remembered? Does it matter? Why do I care? I'm hoping death is becoming wrapped up in Love or becoming a part of it.