I just bought this bunch of everlasting daisies from the cemetery florist. It seems more than a little ironic… For wandering between the old, sunken headstones out here, the knowledge of the temporary nature of things – of life – sinks in a little deeper.
How we like to forget this… to remain hidden from it in the everyday. Shielded. If you believed the stronger messages and myths that our (western) society spins, you’d think that youth can last forever (if only you buy the right face cream or get the right surgery or adopt the right frame of mind).
But the hundreds upon hundreds of graves out here all tell a different story.
What price might we pay, collectively, to do this to ourselves?
And what might it be costing you (and your loved ones) if you stay hidden from the thought of your own death? From the impending truth of it?
Existential therapy might even go so far as suggesting it could cost you your life. For it sees death as one of the very “givens” of life – those bits that are just part of the deal. Intrinsic. Inescapable.
Though, in our minds, it seems we often pretend we can escape death.
We ignore it.
We forget it.
We look the other way.
We get on with the ‘business of living’ (as though that doesn’t equally entail the ‘business of dying’)… as though it isn’t actually us that death will visit.
And so, along with the concept of death more generally, our own very personal mortality can remain hidden to us. Our finiteness. The very thing that brings meaning to the preciousness of our days. All of it camouflaged by that other escapist stuff.
So how might this play out in your life?
What costs might there be if death remains hidden to you?
Just take a moment and see if any answers well up to the surface as you think about these queries:
What might you be putting of until ‘later’?
(As though that later will always exist).
And how often do you think you do this?
What are you leaving unsaid or undone in your life?
(Until some mythical ‘right time’ comes along – and as though you’ll, ‘naturally’, still be around by then, too).
What are you keeping hidden?
Which dreams, ambitions, talents, desires or truths might you be hiding?
(Hiding from others. Hiding from yourself).
Which facades or masks or societal norms might you be hiding beneath?
In fact, “Hidden” is the name of the exhibition I’ve come here to the cemetery to see today – an outdoor sculpture walk planted amid the graves.
All the artworks – and their revelations – really are kind of hidden unless you truly engage with this place. Walk the rows of it. Mark the time of it.
And maybe it’s a bit like that with life and death, too? (With your life. With your death). To truly have one, perhaps we must engage with the other. And face the reality that one day, all our ‘everlasting daisies’ will eventually wilt and die away…
All this talk of death can seem a bit grim, at first.
But if the alternative is to keep looking away from death – away from the wilting – and, instead, to invite the plastic pretense of a bouquet that will never truly bloom (but will crumble inevitably anyway)…
… then give me death any day.
(And, after all, it seems that’s how it will come…).
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From Psych Central's website:
How Death Can Bring You To Life: Existential Writing Exercises | The Therapist Within (May 10, 2011)
Last reviewed: 4 Apr 2011