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Echoes of death
Jul. 3rd, 2003 12:58 amI want the song Beloved played at my funeral when I die. I was discussing this with the Tiger today in the car, on this marble-bright sunny day that just glowed everywhere. The sun was so sincere it made me happy, and not lethargic. That or Vay-beauty is rubbing off on me…
But I was thinking about that, about dying, and people dying… and I felt this strange … compulsion, this thought that feeling the kind of unbridled, banshee-wailing sorrow I would if someone as close to me as I’d like to be to other people passed, would feel good. And then I realized… I was reaching for a memory.
I could feel an echo of that depthless pain welling in some hidden corner of my soul, stirring like a dusty dream. Staring into the sun and traffic, listening to that music pulsing and pulsing, I had a sense of it, the wideness of it like the sea or wind, just rising in me distantly. It could not have been my imagination. Some things I think I dream, and others I –know- are emotions. There are some emotions that a soul cannot understand, cannot empathize with, unless the soul has in fact felt it, and recognized it.
The thing is… no one that close to me has gone in this life. No one I loved that dearly has been torn from me, by any circumstances. They either made me angry first, which always dulls the blade (although I will by no means say that it doesn’t hurt), or we faded… and just faded.
I could see it like a flame through all the cycles in which I have existed. The image is vague, but its impress still lingers close on my spirit. It’s in moment’s like this where I know I’ve not been misleading myself into believing I’m an old spirit, to escape reality or grandify my life or whatever the psychological student excuse would be. No… I’ve been there, I’ve felt those things. Death, the span between death and birth always clouds things, and I forgot… but never forever.
I wonder at it… what this one is. What life and what moment are lingering in the fray of my memory. It made me melt. Behind that pain, which punctuated the moment… the sorrow, the –anguish- at whatever loss I felt that I let free as that soul freed itself from whatever world, behind it was pleasure… the kind of pleasure when you really purely and truly love someone. The sensation was not clear enough for me to tell the dynamic of that particular affection, but it was there… and that makes me happy. It makes me feel real.
About Beloved… (The Grey Dawn remix to be specific; I want you all to dance when I die, give my soul energy to travel on to the next place we will meet). I listen to that song, to the lines, and that is what I want to be able to feel about my life when it is over. That is what I want people to feel toward me, and what I want people to remember about me.
This entry is long, which means no one is going to read it, but I don’t care. I’ve done way too much of not recording my thoughts when I have them, in any medium, lately, and I’m sick of it. I’d like to think that, by writing in a public journal, someone is reading and nodding their head… thinking about what I have to say, how it relates to me as creature of this world and others, in other words… giving a damn. But sometimes I doubt it. *grin*. That could easily be considered expecting too much of people, especially people I don’t know.
But I was thinking about that, about dying, and people dying… and I felt this strange … compulsion, this thought that feeling the kind of unbridled, banshee-wailing sorrow I would if someone as close to me as I’d like to be to other people passed, would feel good. And then I realized… I was reaching for a memory.
I could feel an echo of that depthless pain welling in some hidden corner of my soul, stirring like a dusty dream. Staring into the sun and traffic, listening to that music pulsing and pulsing, I had a sense of it, the wideness of it like the sea or wind, just rising in me distantly. It could not have been my imagination. Some things I think I dream, and others I –know- are emotions. There are some emotions that a soul cannot understand, cannot empathize with, unless the soul has in fact felt it, and recognized it.
The thing is… no one that close to me has gone in this life. No one I loved that dearly has been torn from me, by any circumstances. They either made me angry first, which always dulls the blade (although I will by no means say that it doesn’t hurt), or we faded… and just faded.
I could see it like a flame through all the cycles in which I have existed. The image is vague, but its impress still lingers close on my spirit. It’s in moment’s like this where I know I’ve not been misleading myself into believing I’m an old spirit, to escape reality or grandify my life or whatever the psychological student excuse would be. No… I’ve been there, I’ve felt those things. Death, the span between death and birth always clouds things, and I forgot… but never forever.
I wonder at it… what this one is. What life and what moment are lingering in the fray of my memory. It made me melt. Behind that pain, which punctuated the moment… the sorrow, the –anguish- at whatever loss I felt that I let free as that soul freed itself from whatever world, behind it was pleasure… the kind of pleasure when you really purely and truly love someone. The sensation was not clear enough for me to tell the dynamic of that particular affection, but it was there… and that makes me happy. It makes me feel real.
About Beloved… (The Grey Dawn remix to be specific; I want you all to dance when I die, give my soul energy to travel on to the next place we will meet). I listen to that song, to the lines, and that is what I want to be able to feel about my life when it is over. That is what I want people to feel toward me, and what I want people to remember about me.
This entry is long, which means no one is going to read it, but I don’t care. I’ve done way too much of not recording my thoughts when I have them, in any medium, lately, and I’m sick of it. I’d like to think that, by writing in a public journal, someone is reading and nodding their head… thinking about what I have to say, how it relates to me as creature of this world and others, in other words… giving a damn. But sometimes I doubt it. *grin*. That could easily be considered expecting too much of people, especially people I don’t know.