If death was Zeno's paradox

 

“Death’s got an Invisibility Cloak?” Harry interrupted again. “So he can sneak up on people,” said Ron — J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

There’s a paradox in wondering whether I can perceive objects or understand notions that I have never experienced.

Can I perceive a world beyond the range of my sensory physiology, which is shaped by the guardrails of what enhanced my chances of survival and reproduction.

The fact of the matter is that what I can perceive in the external world is restricted by evolution optimizing my traits to best fit the environment it had to work with. That is the reason that my eyes respond to electromagnetic spectrum between violet (380 nanometers) and red (750 nanometers). And to those experiences I have given names - violet and red.

Can I even imagine or have the words to describe what would 4th dimension of space, if it were to exist, would be like? What would it feel like to be in it? How would I describe the direction that is other than left/right, up/down, front/back.

For that matter, would 4th space dimension even be dimensions like space I am familiar with?

If the 4th space dimension does exist, and since I do not have words to describe it, perhaps I will invent words nadri and sadri to mimic left/right in the world of my current familiarity. Those words sound like a good choice as any. How else left & right themselves would have originated? In the beginning, they might have sounded silly.

A positive aspect of the things I cannot experience is that generally they do not generate the emotion of unease or fear. How can I be afraid of things that I cannot sense?

What I love, hate, fear, starts with what my senses deliver to my brain, where based on past experiences, the sensory input gets processed into an emotion, and then, into actions.

Among the class of objects that I have no firsthand experience with, and thus, have no prior frame of reference under which to categorize them and discuss, the notion of death and cognizance of my own mortality holds a unique position.

I have no firsthand idea what the moment of death feels like, and I will never know. While alive, by definition, I have not felt death, and as long I am alive, I will not feel it either.

And yet, the thought that at some moment in time my ‘self’ will cease to exist, while I have not a shred of clue what would happen to the self beyond that point, death has been an unsettling thought that keeps recurring.

It is a thought that has modulated my (and humanity’s) behavior in so many ways.

What is death anyway? I do know that it is a point of transition when I step from the realm of conscious self to a different realm. I have observed that happen round me. [Note — In that way death is somewhat different from say the 4th space dimension I do not even know if it exists. I have seen handiwork of death everywhere even though I have no personal experience of it.]

I saw death happen with my father lying in the hospital bed and watching him take his last breath. I have watched his unconscious body trying to hold on to this realm but eventually let go. When the breathing finally stopped, I was still around but he was either in a different world or he just was not anymore.

That is what is the fear and unease of death — knowing that it exists and also knowing that the act entails destruction of self and what it has been (without a phenomenological evidence that it continues on).

Would it not be wonderful if the moment of death was something like Zeno’s paradox? It would be exquisite to feel the experience the moment of death getting nearer and nearer but never arrive.

The moment of death as an asymptote. One by one layers of onion peeling away but never revealing the central core.

The thought becomes a poem in mind:

Could death’s moment
mirror Zeno’s paradox?
How exquisite — forever nearing the void,
yet never gone.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

Thank you, Dear Jane

It was only yesterday
that I was sitting
in a fetal position,
hands folded across the chest,
and the forehead,
trying to reach my knees.

In that position,
I was rocked by invisible hands,
tying to get some traction
on slippery sands
and bring myself
      to stand.

It was only yesterday
that I had wondered,
is this what it feels like
before
      the end?

It was only yesterday
that you were calling
county’s hotline
desperate to find some crutches,
and not let me fall
into the abyss.

You did not want us
      to end,
not yet, not tomorrow,
      not ever,

because,

you had loved me,
loved us being together
loved the simplicity
of sum of our moments
      adding to  more than
what they were,
and because,
you were
a born fighter.

It was all only yesterday,
but it feels so far away
      as we cuddle up
for a movie,
and are thankful for
      normal days.

I wonder,
if this what it feels like
to be born again?

And for all that,
Thank you, Dear Jane.

Let go the thought of the next

Old man
(and that would be me)
enjoy this cup
of amber-brown tea
      that is
nestled in your hand
      on a winter morning
and let go the thought of
      the next cup
that is already brewing
in your mind,
      with the anticipation of enjoying
after this one ends.

That cup of tea
is going to be
      no different
than what already nestles
      in your hands.

Enjoy this kiss
that is already on your lips
and let go the thought of
    the next one
…

      … 

The ailment of existential crisis

 

We all have to die one day, we might as well die with some obscure meaning attached to it — Ryan Gelpke

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

The existential crisis is a condition born from the union of life and death sleeping together in the same bed called the living.

Compelled to coexist, they strive for amicability. Yet, their efforts often culminate in struggle, especially when death seeks to strip life of all significance and meaning, leaving it exposed and trembling in the cold of night.

Nonetheless, they persist in their efforts to remain together and honor each other’s individuality. Even when their elbows occasionally collide, they hold onto the hope that the majority of their remaining time on this Earth can be of mutual respect and peaceful coexistence.

Together they strive to have shared time where empathy and mutual understanding prevail, and compassion is the bridge across their divide.

In their quest for harmonious coexistence, they’ve consulted therapists, delved into self-help books, and explored philosophical texts, seeking to unravel the significance of their ongoing struggles and discover effective solutions.

After a long enough struggle with living succumbing to the moods and vagaries of the tension that exists between them, a solution they have come is to recognize the reality that their personalities are different and the tension between them may not go away.

After enduring a protracted struggle, with living succumbing to the unpredictable shifts and nuances of the tension that binds life and death, they have arrived at a realization: their distinct personalities are there to stay, and the tension between them will remain.

To keep moving forward, they’ve reached a compromise solution that has been effective.

What they have settled down is to let life have a meaning, purpose, goal, and something to look forward to in the mornings. Yet, being perfectly aware that periods of tranquility could be taken over by occasions of death doubting the authenticity of everything life does. They have come to an acceptance that when that happens it would be moments of facing the ailment of existential crisis once again.

Indeed, they acknowledge that equilibrium between always be tenuous and is capable of shifting without a formal announcement.

For now, the arrangement has been working out well.

Ciao.