Don't Jeer the Reaper (Editorial)

Lately, I’ve been coming to terms with the personal issues in my life. I’m enjoying the now, and I know the future is going to suck, all our futures suck, only after that has passed, and we are basking in the now of then, are we ever happy. The future holds death, disease, loss of loved ones, but when those tidings have come to pass, we are back in the subtlety of now once again, and the older we get the more the future creeps up, ever-always carrying on its back the beautiful, elegant form of Death. Death is a wondrous, fickle thing. It makes us hate it, but in the greater aspect, beautiful things come from out of it: the allowance of new life to flourish, the hopes of a child’s success to carry them through adulthood, and for then they do not contend with the same niche as someone nearly 100 years of age. Death is a beautiful thing, and even if it’s a personal death one is contending with, it is our greed that keeps us from seeing the finer points of what life is! Death is as equal to life as any other elemental form in this universe. We may not see every death as pretty, and granted, most times it’s rather treacherous, but its purpose is one that isn’t macabre, but the act of dying is, not the outcome. We are all perfect in death, we are all attuned to what are the energetic forces that pulse this green and blue ball with life! It is a harsh quickness, and a valid loss that makes us feel pain, and even if the afterlife is nothing but a pipedream, it matters what we do now, and what has brought us the most joy. Life is full of failure, the desire to read on through the night, rather than rise early for the daily race towards destiny. Dylan Thomas stated infamously to his dying father in the poem: “Do Not Go Gently into that Good Night”, stating for his dying father to “Rage! Rage against the dying of the light!” and I always wondered if that was because he never finished the will. I jest of course! But I must disagree with Mr. Thomas on all merits, particularly with raging against death. Death is a comfort to the end of this form of suffering. Many will say it brings forth a new form of suffering in Hell, or wherever else the baddies go. Still, I find that we are all measured by our life consistently, because death itself is a pleasurable end to something we could never really control, and it to comes to pass with another extreme action we never truly control. Sure, we can fend off death, but how do we fight off pesky Life? I suppose we could do so with suicide, but that’s a bit brash. So the next best answer is a medically induced coma. Death is incredibly harsh as well, but remember, life is what made us fault Death, how come we don’t side with Death to fault Life? Isn’t life where we feel the most pain? Is it that continuing on alone that makes it so unbearable? Death is the outcome of nothingness over something, and is loving to all it embraces, and embraces all equally. Life plays cruel jokes: it makes us disfigured, diseased, hateful, and violent, it impresses forces of Nature that are some of the most chaotic elements in the entire known universe. Life is a bitch, and then you die is the saying, and well said too! Death in the above cliché is the thankful end. So I say when your goldfish dies, or someone beloved is laid to rest, I say not to curse the grim reaper, who is exact and efficient, I say curse Life, for Life is what made that goldfish only live for five days, it’s what gave your great-great granddaddy his eleventh stroke, Death was there to finally put that old man out of his miscreant misery of trying to hold a spoon! Curse Life, and show a little love for the Reaper! For when he comes for you, perhaps, and mayhap I be wrong about such things, he will not give you a chiding poke, but a sympathetic pat on the back, as he whisks you away into the next step of the terrible process of Life.