Confirmation of mortality

If only all of my post titles sounded like the names of Megadeth songs.

 
Obviously I’m well aware of the fact that I’m going to die. Hell, I’ve always felt that one of the first big ‘tests’ in life is how you deal with the inevitability of your eventual end. Some people panic and try so hard to ‘live safe’ that they don’t actually do anything that they wanted. Others go off like crazed adrenaline junkies and do every stupid thing they can get in to. Some people stress about it (ironically bringing it closer as that stress takes a toll), some pretend it isn’t there like they’re ignoring a pungent fart in a room full of people. Some seek solace in spirituality and the religious belief in something greater waiting on the other side of life’s closing door. And some just get on with their lives.

Because the truth is, you can die anytime any day anywhere. Hell, I could go out tonight and get in a head on collision with a drunk driver that snaps my neck and that’s all she wrote (and I don’t know who the ubiquitous ‘she’ is, but she’s a bitch). I could stay in where it’s ‘safe’, then a fire breaks out and I choke and die on a cloud of smoke.

That might sound incredibly morbid to some people, but I honestly don’t take it that way. If something is going to happen regardless of what you do, why worry about it? Seriously, it will happen despite everything you do or say or feel, so just accept it and move on with your life.

I didn’t always used to be like this. I never really worried about it…Hell, I never really thought about it. But many years ago I took a look in the mirror and finally admitted to myself that I didn’t entirely like what I saw looking back at me. I didn’t think I was worth much…the funny thing about giving up on trying to do anything is that you eventually end up giving up on yourself. On top of that, I had a hair trigger temper. I was angry A LOT. And I don’t mean like when I get a little heated during a rant…I mean ANGRY. Storming around outside, snarling like a fucking wild animal, smashing anything I could get my hands on angry.

I didn’t want to be that person anymore. I needed to calm down. And I found a source for some of that in books. Specifically, in books about samurai.

When people see that word pop up, their first instinct is to think of what are essentially ninja…hardcore warrior badasses stomping the fuck out of anyone in front of them. Well, that or Tom Cruise movies…seriously, does the big hero ALWAYS have to be a fucking white dude?

Moving on! The samurai were actually very spiritual, and lived by a code of ethics and rules that governed their behaviour. And part of that was essentially a ‘live and let live’, ‘let it go’ kind of mentality.

That cut right to the core of the problem for me…I NEVER let things go. I would obsess over shit in the past. I would analyze it in my mind and go through it again and again and again.

I don’t do that anymore. I have definitely bought in to the ethos of keeping the past a memory. Sometimes you can pull it out and look at it, but then put it back in the drawer, close it and move on. Focus on what you can control, and you cannot control the past.

Anyway, while I was dealing with getting myself in order, I also realized that I already had a very ‘samurai’ way of looking at death. There is one line in the Hagakure that I have always liked…it’s my sig in a lot of forums, actually…’Meditation on inevitable death should be performed daily.’

And again, that might sound incredibly morbid to some people, but it’s all in how you choose to interpret those words. And for me, it’s about accepting the inevitability then getting up and going about your day. Obviously, that isn’t quite as relevant to me as I sit on my ass in front of a computer than it was for a man about to don armour and charge in to battle, but it still applies. Live your life and don’t obsess about what is beyond your control, and death is the penultimate example of that which is beyond your reach.

I thought of that briefly today. One of my aunts was in town visiting for the day, and I found myself at a table while her and my parents chatted. Now back in the day, I LOVED sitting in while my dad and his relatives would start bringing up the past because that’s when I’d hear all the things that clarified the present. And it was especially awesome when the booze was flowing, because then the stories of the things my dad got up to in his early 20’s started to drop…it didn’t take long before it was apparent why these stories didn’t often come around during sober time. Hell, I’d play bartender and start mixing stronger drinks just to get to the fun shit earlier!

Now, it’s much different. They’re all in their early 60’s now. There is still reminiscing about the past, but these days the whole thing has a different tone to it. Too often, the talk diverges on to paths about aches and pains and surgeries and illnesses and eventually to “Oh, do you know who just died?” I can’t help but feel a little glum after a day of that because it’s just a reminder that time grinds on and there’s nothing you can do about it but stop wasting time, and I’ve done enough of that over the years.

And I guess that this is as close to a conclusion as this post is going to get, because there’s really nothing else to say.