The secular world has its own afterlife delusion: that non-existence brings relief. But that’s a type error. Non-existence is non-experiential. In death there’s not gonna be that exhale of our shackles lifting. Instead, let’s exhale now, in life. Let go now, when we have the chance. The freedom of giving up while still living.
If you’ve ever wanted to die because you long for the relief of letting go of hope, I don’t blame you. There’s a limit to what we can cope with while holding on to desire.
You can have courage by accepting fear, trust by accepting doubt, relief by accepting pain. Perfection by accepting the beginner mind. Whatever you hoped death would bring is right here for you in life.
Radically accept the world with all its pains and dangers and work with directed effort to change what we can and shrug at what we can’t. I’m not talking about the end of care for Earth and each other. That’s not what I have here for you today. All I have is a way to see the abyss without falling in. A way to fully taste that brief pinprick of light in the infinite velvet. Every breath, for all its rattles and pains, is a gift to one who has given up. I guess I can keep going for one more day now that I know that the journey isn’t about the destination. Winners never quit but quitters never lose.
I went forth with armored frame
but of fear the arm was cast, and of shame
Beyond relief from pain, the other thing I wanted to get out of death was validation. The ultimate gravity expression. Whether it was to show every dumb motherfucker how real their inflicted pain still echoed in my scars, or to scream out that I really do know the full extent of my shame and my mistakes and that there’s no going back.
But that’s still the same afterlife myth since non-existence remains non-experiential. They might finally understand how real my reasons were, or they might not. More likely they won’t since we’re not talking about the brightest bulbs in the fridge here. The validation I sought was a desire, a hope. When I found relief in hopelessness the need for validation didn’t feel as bad. I’ll combine radical acceptance of invalidation with a continued directed effort to find validation and to shrug where there’s none to be found.
When I chose death, I was willing to accept never knowing if that validation was going to come. If that’s how little I really cared about it—which is the only amount that it is possible to care about it: fully, but accepting what’s out of my reach—I might as well live.