When We Die

Strangely, death is often the first thing that crosses my mind when I wake up. How would one feel a day before departing this world? One hour? One minute? What will be on my mind when I inhale and exhale my last breath, and when my brain gradually shuts down? Will I encounter what's been portrayed by the media - surrounded by my loved ones? Will there be some "entities" that pay a visit to pick me up? Will I find myself approaching the light at the end of the tunnel, like how "the great beyond" is portrayed in Pixar's Soul. or gradually consumed by a blackhole of darkness? I've constructed the scene of death many, many times, but only one thing remains constant in every attempt - fear, in its purest form. What I mean by "purest form" is that this fear is solely built upon the idea of the unknown; it's nothing like being afraid of the boogyman in the closet; it's nothing like going to the dentist or preparing to speak publicly in front of thousands; it's nothing like acrophobia, arachnophobia, or claustrophobia. The scariest part about death is that you don't know what to think of it.

I've always been fascinated by how one's mind change throughout our life. The shift in my thoughts and feelings toward death is an excellent example. This change was catalyzed by two enlightening experiences. The first turning point manifested when I bumped into Socrate's comment on death during a Philosophy lecture.

“To fear death, my friends, is only to think ourselves wise, without being wise: for it is to think that we know what we do not know. For anything that men can tell, death may be the greatest good that can happen to them: but they fear it as if they knew quite well that it was the greatest of evils."

Out of no where, these words neutralized a large portion of my fear towards death. Yes, what arrogant creatures are we, to think we already know what's beyond our living world? We eagerly seek to paint a portrait of death because we have no clues about its appearence; little do we realize that the very paint that we use are ignorance and narcissism. To accept that we don't actually know anything about what's beyond death, is the first step to pull us away from fearing its approach.

The second turning point came to me when I was watching the finale of the Netflix seties Midnight Mass. During a scene towards the end of the series, one of the protagonists, Erin, is bleeding to death. She's lying on the grass, consciousness gradually fading. The night sky filled with stars is before her eyes. Before she draws her last breath, she suddenly remembers a conversation she had with her loved one, Riley. "What happens, when we die?" Riley asked her. A sense of realization pour into her dying mind. She gets it now.

“I remember that every atom in my body was forged in a star. This matter, this body is mostly just empty space after all, and solid matter? It’s just energy vibrating very slowly, and there is no me. There never was. The electrons of my body mingle and dance with the electrons of the ground below me and the air I’m no longer breathing. And I remember, there is no point where any of that ends and I begin.

I remember I am energy. Not memory. Not self. My name, my personality, my choices, all came after me. I was before them and I will be after, and everything else is pictures, picked up along the way. Fleeting little dreamlets printed on the tissue of my dying brain. And I am the lightning that jumps between. I am the energy firing the neurons, and I’m returning. Just by remembering, I’m returning home. And it’s like a drop of water falling back into the ocean, of which it’s always been a part.

All things… a part. All of us… a part.

You, me and my little girl, and my mother and my father, everyone who’s ever been, every plant, every animal, every atom, every star, every galaxy, all of it. More galaxies in the universe than grains of sand on the beach. An that’s what we’re talking about when we say “God.” The one. The cosmos and its infinite dreams. We are the cosmos dreaming of itself. It’s simply a dream that I think is my life, every time. But I’ll forget this. I always do. I always forget my dreams. But now, in this split-second, in the moment I remember, the instant I remember, I comprehend everything at once.

There is no time, there is no death. Life is a dream. It’s a wish. Made again and again and again and again and again and again and on into eternity. And I am all of it. I am everything. I am all. I am that I am.”

I'm not going to lie. I've never sobbed more intensely in my life when listening to this monologue. Only a tiny fragment, though, is due to my grief towards Erin's death. The rest is due to the fact that I was synchronizing with her. That sense of realization was one of the most beautiful relief that I've ever expereinced. It was freedom, it was peace, it was a resolution.

In Harry Potter, the Dark Lord Voldemort stores pieces of his soul within seven Horocrost to avoid death; In the fourth episode of Marvel's animation series What If, we see that in an alternative reality, Dr. Strange loses his loved one instead of his hands in the car-crash; consequently, instead of fulfilling his destiny to be the sorcerous supreme, he deviates from the path and spends centuries absorbing the power of mythical entities in order to ressurect his loved one; this consequently leads to the collapse of his universe and him being confined in a pocket dimension. Moreover, an exemption from death is often portrayed as a curse rather than a gift in stories and tales. In Zima Blue, my favorite episode of the series Love, Death, and Robots, the AI artist Zima started his existence as a pool-cleaning robot; however, as it goes through generations of gradual upgrading by his owners, he eventually gains consciousness; now equipped with the most prominent ability of living beings, "the mind", he spends centuries searching for the meaning of life through art; despite being excused from aging and death, he chooses to put an end to his journey by disassembling himself in a pool during his final show, leaving only enough parts to exist as the pool-cleaning robot. I believe that there's a reason why such message regarding life and death has been embedded in so many stories. Why, then, are we repeatedly told to not attempt to cheat death? Why are characters that attempt to do that tend to become twisted, self-destructing creatures?

It is because that death and life mutually define each other. We are living because we are limited by time. As we seek to defy the grandiose force of death, we violate the very essence of our existence; As the prestigious psychologist Alfred Adler put it, "Death is really a great blessing for humanity, without it there could be no real progress. People who lived for ever would not only hamper and discourage the young, but they would themselves lack sufficient stimulus to be creative".

We are biologically programmed to fight or flight when facing the unknown, the uncertain, the lack of control. Death is a special case, since it is inevitable. We can fight and prolong the appearances of time, but we cannot flee from it. Our fear toward death is largely predicted upon the idea of "seizing to exist". We are afraid of vanishing from this world. However, come to think of it, do we really "vanish"? Absolutely not! We are an assembly of atoms that happens to enable fascinating functions such as sensations, perceptions, and conscious experiences; death is merely the disassembling of this specific form of existence which we called life. With this perspective - subtracting your subjective self from viewing death, you realize that death is as beautiful as everything that you appreciate in your life. It is just as pleasing as enjoying a cheat meal, cuddling with your significant other in a warm bed, getting accepted into the top schools and firms, and being a millionaire. We appreciate life and fear death because living is what our conscious mind is most familiar with. However, when we take a step back and think about it, living is just a tiny fragment of our journey in the universe; it is just a short road trip, like subliminal images flashed before your eyes. And what's the worst thing that could happen at a road trip? That you never substantially explore and enjoy it.

"Don't be afraid of death; be afraid of not living " - Alfred Bleu