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Death
- Thread starter Two Gun Bob
- Start date
bowdonblue
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- 8 Sep 2008
- Messages
- 1,256
TCIB said:The idea we exist is absurd if you look at the logistics, so i am thankful every day i wake up even if i hate life some days.
I love the idea i have this chance to reflect on life and the universe.
We are the cosmos made conscious and i am more thankful for it than i could ever express.
We are amazing and we don't respect it enough, yes we die but what is more important is we have the chance to live.
This brings me to tears some times and i don't mind saying...
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=royz6sL19Tw[/youtube]
Well that's blown my mind before breakfast! In a good way, what an amazing film. Appreciate the now, people!
another generation
Well-Known Member
Bless you, dcj. A brave and beautiful thing to post.dcj said:I've just been to a funeral last week that was the celebration of a young life (16), she was an inspiration to everyone she met especially after being diagnosed with a brain tumour in March. She still lived and loved life to the full for as long as she could until the cancer took over. The funeral was a beautiful occasion where most people came out smiling,including me and my wife. Which is a strange thing to say as she was our daughter.
Going through hell now though.
chabal said:SAMH4000 said:Who the hell wouldn't be afraid of an inevitable, endless abyss of nothingness?
Touch harsh.
Skelmersdale has its moments.
Nascent Blues
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- 20 Sep 2009
- Messages
- 5,354
My favourite poem:
Aubade
By Philip Larkin 1922–1985 Philip Larkin
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what’s really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die.
Arid interrogation: yet the dread
Of dying, and being dead,
Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.
The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
—The good not done, the love not given, time
Torn off unused—nor wretchedly because
An only life can take so long to climb
Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never;
But at the total emptiness for ever,
The sure extinction that we travel to
And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,
Not to be anywhere,
And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.
This is a special way of being afraid
No trick dispels. Religion used to try,
That vast moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die,
And specious stuff that says No rational being
Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing
That this is what we fear—no sight, no sound,
No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,
Nothing to love or link with,
The anaesthetic from which none come round.
And so it stays just on the edge of vision,
A small unfocused blur, a standing chill
That slows each impulse down to indecision.
Most things may never happen: this one will,
And realisation of it rages out
In furnace-fear when we are caught without
People or drink. Courage is no good:
It means not scaring others. Being brave
Lets no one off the grave.
Death is no different whined at than withstood.
Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape.
It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,
Have always known, know that we can’t escape,
Yet can’t accept. One side will have to go.
Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring
In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring
Intricate rented world begins to rouse.
The sky is white as clay, with no sun.
Work has to be done.
Postmen like doctors go from house to house.
Aubade
By Philip Larkin 1922–1985 Philip Larkin
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what’s really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die.
Arid interrogation: yet the dread
Of dying, and being dead,
Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.
The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
—The good not done, the love not given, time
Torn off unused—nor wretchedly because
An only life can take so long to climb
Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never;
But at the total emptiness for ever,
The sure extinction that we travel to
And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,
Not to be anywhere,
And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.
This is a special way of being afraid
No trick dispels. Religion used to try,
That vast moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die,
And specious stuff that says No rational being
Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing
That this is what we fear—no sight, no sound,
No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,
Nothing to love or link with,
The anaesthetic from which none come round.
And so it stays just on the edge of vision,
A small unfocused blur, a standing chill
That slows each impulse down to indecision.
Most things may never happen: this one will,
And realisation of it rages out
In furnace-fear when we are caught without
People or drink. Courage is no good:
It means not scaring others. Being brave
Lets no one off the grave.
Death is no different whined at than withstood.
Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape.
It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,
Have always known, know that we can’t escape,
Yet can’t accept. One side will have to go.
Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring
In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring
Intricate rented world begins to rouse.
The sky is white as clay, with no sun.
Work has to be done.
Postmen like doctors go from house to house.
johnny on the spot
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- 19 Jul 2006
- Messages
- 24,748
Buddha said: 'Life is a bridge, don't build a house on it'.
chestervegasblue said:I don't fear death. I just hate it.
Flying out to the States tomorrow as my father-in-law, who was was given 2-6 weeks to live just over a fortnight ago is about to die. Mrs CVB has been there for 2 weeks already, barely sleeping because she doesn't want to miss a moment, as she's been over here for 2 years. Her dad's not 60 yet and she's just turned 25. He's a top, top guy too.
Neither he nor his family fear what he's going to. We just hate that he's going so prematurely.
Fuck cancer.
fuck cancer indeed
stay strong pal
dcj said:I've just been to a funeral last week that was the celebration of a young life(16),she was an inspiration to everyone she met especially after being diagnosed with a brain tumour in March. She still lived and loved life to the full for as long as she could until the cancer took over. The funeral was a beautiful occasion where most people came out smiling,including me and my wife. Which is a strange thing to say as she was our daughter.
Going through he'll now though.
As a father myself, I hope I only ever imagine the pain you are going through. I know it was only a few lines in reply to another post, but your short eulogy to your daughter has moved me.
You and your family have my deepest and sincere condolences.
God bless you blue.
ifiwasarichfan
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- 4 Dec 2008
- Messages
- 7,941
ifiwasarichfan said:It doesn't bother me because I am going to Heaven to talk to Jesus about City and Morrissey.
Just in case anybody thinks my post was flippant, I truly, truly believe this.