Let it never be said that the people in this thread lack courage.
I feel so much gratitude to everyone here for sharing your perspectives and experiences on this very personal and difficult topic. In this very moment, we are on this plane of existence together but we are also individuals whose experiences are disparate. Our thoughts, our struggles, our triumphs, our circumstances, and how we feel about and react to them are our own.
I regularly remind myself and encourage others to:
- Live your best life; nobody else is going to live it for you.
Upon reading the comments in this thread, I could not help but think about my own life and why I appreciate each moment and do not personally consider the alternative. For me, it is rather simple:
- I prefer the known knowns and the surprises (of life) to the unknown (that is death).
For my part, the questions people are pondering in this thread make me think of one of the most famous (and too oft abbreviated) passages from one of William Shakespeare's most famous works.
I read this for the first time when I was 9 years old, decades ago now.
But it has endured for centuries and I think it still holds true:
Enter Hamlet
HAMLET
“To be or not to be—that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And, by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep—
No more—and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to—’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished.
To die, to sleep—
To sleep, perchance to dream.
Ay, there’s the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’ oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th’ unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveler returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Then fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.—Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia.—Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remembered.
Excerpt from:
The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark - Act 3, Scene 1 - (1599 - 1601)
Some people think that our consciousness, our sense of self, in the present on this plane of existence is a DREAM from which we will one day WAKE.
Perhaps they are right. I assume nothing.
All I can do is make a choice.
I choose to be present. To live.
Do any of us remember what came before we were 'here'?
Do any of us know what will come after?
Can you be certain the alternative will be better?