The Everyday Human

*Bonus Episode*

March: On Death

March 31

Today's second reflection was inspired by the poem "Canticle" by Wendell Berry.

We all interact with Death in different ways. We all have different relationships with it. 

But what influences those relationships? Your culture? Religion? Country? Upbringing?

We're told that in order to reach a glorious afterlife, the physical body must decline and fall. 

Have you ever stopped to think about your beliefs around Death? Where do these beliefs come from? Do you agree with what you believe? Or is a change necessary?

• Reflection title: What Does it Mean to You?
• Creative inspiration: Wendell Berry, "Canticle"
• Reflection Question: What have I been led to believe death means? Have I questioned any of these assumptions? Have I taken the time to consider what it means not to the church or town or city, but to me?

March: On Death

March 31

Today's reflection was inspired by John Keats' poem "Ode to a Nightingale."

We often want what we can't get. That's another odd yet fundamental aspect of human nature. Immortality, something we already looked at in previous reflections, for instance. Or at least the desire to live on in one way, shape, or form after we're gone. Why do we want this? How does this perceived or imaginary time after we die impact the present moment in which we live?

While the nightingale’s song may be immortal, the bird does not sing for everlasting life, it sings because that is what it must do. So find what it is that you must do, and carry on with it joyfully until you die, and do not wish for anything beyond that. 

• Reflection title: Why Do You Do It?
• Creative inspiration: John Keats, "Ode to a Nightingale"
• Reflection Question: What is it that I must do and create? Have I been looking for immortality in the wrong places? How can I shake this desire to better live in the present?
  
  

March: On Death

March 30

Today's reflection was inspired by the song "This Is Not an Exit" by Saves the Day.

You can hope for a long life that has a nice and comfortable ending that sees you surrounded by your loved ones in your home or garden with the sun shining and a cool breeze blowing and birds singing as you slip away to the other side.

But you just don't know when you'll go, or how. It could be an accident, a sickness, a freak storm while you're on vacation.

And while the ending of your story is out of your control, you can prepare for it in whatever shape or form it takes by living well now—being kind to others, caring for nature, and loving yourself. 

Do this, and whenever your end comes, you can go with the comfort of knowing you lived it well, the best that you knew how.

• Reflection title: All the World’s a Stage
• Creative inspiration: Saves the Day, "This Is Not an Exit"
• Reflection Question: Am I doing all I can now? Am I living the best that I know how, or can I do more? What might that look like?

March: On Death

March 29

Today's reflection was inspired by the song "The Green Fields of France" by Eric Bogle.

You can study it, write about it, protest it, loathe it, but it seems that from the beginning and at least until this point in time, that it has always been with us. That violence and death at scale are a part of humanity despite grand and sweeping declarations of peace. Or despite the fact that World War I was supposed to be the war to end wars. 

No matter what, it always seems to creep back in from the shadows to happen again, and again, and again, and again. 

Is it possible? To have a world without war? I don’t know. Perhaps it is just the way it was, is, and will be. But at the very least, we don’t have to accept that. We can hope and do everything in our power, however small or big, to work toward seeing the end of it—to work toward never having to stumble across a field of white crosses or old faded photos of the Willie McBrides of war. 

• Reflection title: It Was Always Here, but Does It Always Have To Be?
• Creative inspiration: Eric Bogle, "The Green Fields of France"
• Reflection Question: While it may seem futile, what small steps can I take toward peace?

March: On Death

March 28

Today's reflection was inspired by the poem "Dulce et Decorum Est" by Wilfred Owen.

The textbooks and governments and politicians and propaganda outlets would all have you believe that it is sweet and fitting to die for one's country.

You are told that it is good to offer the one thing that is truly yours in this world—your life—so that borders may be maintained or expanded, trade agreements can be written, minerals can be acquired, oil can be bought and sold, vengeance can be exacted, and so that certain gods can be imposed over others—and typically at the behest of one man, or a few.

But do they tell you of the torture or brutal ends you might meet by bomb, bullet, fire, chemical, or other? Do they show you the face of those young humans crying and dying in foreign lands far from their parents and friends and homes? No, they do not show you the guttering, choking, drowning youths. Because why would they when they could instead tell you it is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country?

Though, herein lies the question: Do you believe the old lie?

• Reflection title: Do You Believe the Old Lie?
• Creative inspiration: Wilfred Owen, "Dulce et Decorum Est"
• Reflection Question: Well, do you believe the old lie? If so, why? Or is it not so black and white?

March: On Death

March 27

Today's reflection was inspired by a haiku by Matsuo Bashō.

This reflection deals primarily with the subject of child death. If you are sensitive to this subject, I'll be back tomorrow with another reflection should you decide to skip this one.

The parent whose child has died will forever bend with the weight, but they also have a choice: They can let the weight bend them to breaking, or they can wait for time to begin to melt the snow that weighs them down, remaining strong while keeping their new shape, for it will never be forgotten. 

It is their new way of life and their new reality. It is the way they will always remember that which they have lost, and be grateful for the time, however short it was, they had. 

• Reflection title: Bend Not Break
• Creative inspiration: Matsuo Bashō, Haiku 22
• Reflection Question: How can I be more aware of the limited time I have with those I love? In what ways will I resolve to become more patient and present with my children, family, or friends?

March: On Death

March 26

Today's reflection was inspired by a quote from A.D. After Death by Scott Snyder and Jeff Lemire.

Nothing can escape it. 

Because how can you escape something that is inevitable? Something that simply was, is, and will always be? Why would you try? Why would any of us try? Whether you see it or not, acknowledge it or not, Death walks beside you always. But the child is nothing to be feared. It is inherent in all that exists. It is a part of you just as much as life is. 

It is everywhere. The end of something. 

The short and precious existences of the living and the inanimate, too. Even the seconds of the universe, some might say god itself, are ticking away toward an end.

So instead of running from or fearing it, embrace it, love it, and next time you cross a shadowed corner or come upon a near-empty gas tank, a filled-up journal, or a drained coffee mug . . . look directly at it and wave and say, "I see you."

• Reflection title: I See You
• Creative inspiration: Scott Snyder and Jeff Lemire, A. D. After Death
• Reflection Question: Where have I seen Death recently? Did I turn and run? Did I even realize it was there?
  
  

March: On Death

March 25

Today's reflection was inspired by a quote from Daytripper by Fábio Moon & Gabriel Bá.

Most of us, if not all of us, will at times act as though there will always be a tomorrow and our stories will go on forever, but for many living today, tomorrow will never come. 

It could not come for you, it could not come for me, but understanding and acknowledging that fact is fuel for your life to burn bright while you are here. 

Remind yourself that your book will end, but that’s not a bad thing. It just means that your story will one day be complete, and hopefully, you’ll be able to look back and see just how good it was.

• Reflection title: Which Page Are You On?
• Creative inspiration: Fábio Moon & Gabriel Bá, Daytripper
• Reflection Question: Have I considered the ending of my book? What is my character arc working towards?

March: On Death

March 24

Today's reflection was inspired by a quote from James Baldwin's The Fire Next Time.

As a young child, my greatest fear was burning in hell for my sins. 

It took me a while before I was able to see through the bars of the prison I found myself in. One of religion, strict rules and laws that didn't make sense to me.

But as I grew older, I began to see the many prisons we can find ourselves in—as Baldwin says, those of totems, taboos, and crosses, of armies, and flags, and nations—all in order to deny the fact of death. 

It’s natural. It’s what we do. It’s comforting and routine and human. But once you recognize it, and next time you enter and shut the door of what can become a prison of choice behind you, just be sure you don’t throw away the key.

• Reflection title: A Promise as a Prison
• Creative inspiration: James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time
• Reflection Question: What prison have I willingly or unknowingly entered? Can I see the way out—do I want to, or should I leave?

March: On Death

March 23

Today's reflection was inspired by a quote from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.

There is a certain desperation that comes upon us when our loved ones pass. A desperation to never forget and push back on the universe and what it has taken from us.

Will you remember in big ways, carving a statue or making a memorial or tribute? Or in small ways, watching a leaf float down on the stream, or finding their memory in a soothing cup of tea at night? 

Whatever way you choose, however you mourn or grieve, big or small, stars or streams, let it be, and embrace Death in your own human way.

• Reflection title: Big or Small, Stars or Streams
• Creative inspiration: William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
• Reflection Question: How do I mourn? Or how will I mourn when the time comes? What can I do to prepare for the inevitable?