It's easy in moments of peace and calm to spout/think "philosophies."
But to actually LIVE BY said philosophies when you are at one of life's nadirs...
THAT is the challenge of the coin!
But to actually LIVE BY said philosophies when you are at one of life's nadirs...
THAT is the challenge of the coin!
Also in current question: I've always thought about the (obviously) temporal nature of earthly living beings vs. the possibility of a later spiritual relationship.
Just because you're very upset about a passing, does it mean you'll have a relationship with them in the afterlife? Of course not.
For instance: When I was 15 and John Lennon was shot in 1980:
I had a complete mental breakdown (barely acknowledged and untreated by anyone, even after I sat at my breakfast table weeping and ran out of several sophomore high-school classes crying; though one teacher joked that she was worried about me) out of grief for an artist I'd only been discovering via radio and albums for the prior 8 months or so.
I'll never forget my father's inane reaction: My parents were relatively freshly divorced (1978), and Dad still called the house. When he found out I was upset about Lennon's death, he said to me on the phone: "You wouldn't be so sad if I were dead." I don't know what platitude I muttered at age 15, but today: Ha! Of course not, you self-pitying asshole. Lennon was never mean to me.
Discovering the Beatles (which the Dallas/Ft. Worth radio stations were playing tons of in the summer of 1980) made me extremely happy; and then the process of "picking a favorite Beatle"; and the subsequent discovery of Lennon's solo work, which thrilled me with its raw emotional honesty---probably the first emotionally adult and complicated music and thoughts that I'd ever listened to. I felt that I KNEW him...
But I didn't. All of my 15-year-old "strong feelings" didn't mean that I would contact or meet the man in the afterlife. (Despite my fervent participation in the "moment of silence" that local radio stations held for him during the Yoko memorial.)
When it comes to both Ginny and Sandra in my own personal life:
Ginny died at age 21 in 1988. I first met her in January of 1983; she was a new student at our high school from Georgia. In the spring of that year, she alternated between being MY "best friend" and another girl's "best friend." When she invited me on her family trip to Georgia with her that summer, she asked me to not say anything to the "other girl." At the time, I was a bit flattered; she likes me best, and we have a secret! (I later deduced that she'd asked the "other girl" first and she couldn't go---and that if I found out I was second choice, I wouldn't have gone either.)
Ginny and I became very close that summer (or so I thought). But when I went off to college in the fall of 1983, she basically dumped me a mere 2 months later for a different girl (Cindy) she happened to be in a tennis class with. Ginny had sneaked off to Austin by bus to be with me for one weekend in October, but then realized I had to stay in my paid-for dorm room and she had no place to stay or means of survival---so she called her dad to come get her.
The "tennis girl" would end up being serious, there with her at her death in March '88. Although: Ginny did call me up in the spring of '87---She was sick at that point, and she and her family had since moved back to Georgia; and since it had been 4 years since I'd entered college, she thought that I'd now be graduating and thus free... and could I come visit her? (Where was Cindy? I asked; she was visiting her own mother dying of cancer in Texas.) So Ginny's true love was visiting her own dying mother and couldn't, at that moment, be with Ginny in Georgia for companionship...so she called me. Kind of like a darker version of the summer-trip situation in 1983, where I was second choice.
Now, had I been a better, saintlier person, I would have made the trip to Georgia, just to see my friend that I supposedly loved so much and still bemoan the loss of to this day. But, #1, I didn't know that she was THAT sick and in actual danger of dying. And, #2, I was feeling pissy that she just wanted me to come because Cindy couldn't be there. #3, she'd just spent the past 4 years with Cindy (including a trip that both of them made to Austin to sell stolen CDs from the record store Ginny worked at back in Ft. Worth---they got busted when the Austin record store called the police, and Ginny's parents blamed ME for it, though I had nothing to do with their idiotic plan). And so I did not feel any particular TRUST for this woman! Ha! I LOVED her. And in our brief periods of alone-time, I felt soulfully close to her, probably moreso than I've ever felt for anyone else in my life. I craved being around her and talking to her and interacting with her (and I do still miss her to this day). But... she was a fucking non-trustworthy mess of a person, despite her benign and pleasant exterior!
So, am I going to meet this person in the afterlife, and all things will be wonderful?!
HA! I highly doubt it! :) Just because there was a physical serotonin-reaction of well-being on the planet Earth doesn't mean that we had a real soul-connection.
I won't even go into Sandra at this point (who was my 2nd love, after Ginny). That would take a million more words. And the connection wasn't primarily physical. Although I thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen when I first saw her in Wevill's poetry class in 1986, her actual poetry was the most beautiful and mystical thing. But when I got to know her much better over 20 years later (a primarily phone/e-mail relationship from 2008 until her stroke in 2020), her inner torment was something I absolutely could not handle. Contrary to popular literary/artistic belief, trying to deal with the emotions and thought patterns of someone who's mentally ill is nearly impossible; there is NOTHING you can do for them, despite all of your efforts. They ask for help, you try to give it, they don't want it. Etc.
Memento Vivere.
I had a complete mental breakdown (barely acknowledged and untreated by anyone, even after I sat at my breakfast table weeping and ran out of several sophomore high-school classes crying; though one teacher joked that she was worried about me) out of grief for an artist I'd only been discovering via radio and albums for the prior 8 months or so.
I'll never forget my father's inane reaction: My parents were relatively freshly divorced (1978), and Dad still called the house. When he found out I was upset about Lennon's death, he said to me on the phone: "You wouldn't be so sad if I were dead." I don't know what platitude I muttered at age 15, but today: Ha! Of course not, you self-pitying asshole. Lennon was never mean to me.
Discovering the Beatles (which the Dallas/Ft. Worth radio stations were playing tons of in the summer of 1980) made me extremely happy; and then the process of "picking a favorite Beatle"; and the subsequent discovery of Lennon's solo work, which thrilled me with its raw emotional honesty---probably the first emotionally adult and complicated music and thoughts that I'd ever listened to. I felt that I KNEW him...
But I didn't. All of my 15-year-old "strong feelings" didn't mean that I would contact or meet the man in the afterlife. (Despite my fervent participation in the "moment of silence" that local radio stations held for him during the Yoko memorial.)
When it comes to both Ginny and Sandra in my own personal life:
Ginny died at age 21 in 1988. I first met her in January of 1983; she was a new student at our high school from Georgia. In the spring of that year, she alternated between being MY "best friend" and another girl's "best friend." When she invited me on her family trip to Georgia with her that summer, she asked me to not say anything to the "other girl." At the time, I was a bit flattered; she likes me best, and we have a secret! (I later deduced that she'd asked the "other girl" first and she couldn't go---and that if I found out I was second choice, I wouldn't have gone either.)
Ginny and I became very close that summer (or so I thought). But when I went off to college in the fall of 1983, she basically dumped me a mere 2 months later for a different girl (Cindy) she happened to be in a tennis class with. Ginny had sneaked off to Austin by bus to be with me for one weekend in October, but then realized I had to stay in my paid-for dorm room and she had no place to stay or means of survival---so she called her dad to come get her.
The "tennis girl" would end up being serious, there with her at her death in March '88. Although: Ginny did call me up in the spring of '87---She was sick at that point, and she and her family had since moved back to Georgia; and since it had been 4 years since I'd entered college, she thought that I'd now be graduating and thus free... and could I come visit her? (Where was Cindy? I asked; she was visiting her own mother dying of cancer in Texas.) So Ginny's true love was visiting her own dying mother and couldn't, at that moment, be with Ginny in Georgia for companionship...so she called me. Kind of like a darker version of the summer-trip situation in 1983, where I was second choice.
Now, had I been a better, saintlier person, I would have made the trip to Georgia, just to see my friend that I supposedly loved so much and still bemoan the loss of to this day. But, #1, I didn't know that she was THAT sick and in actual danger of dying. And, #2, I was feeling pissy that she just wanted me to come because Cindy couldn't be there. #3, she'd just spent the past 4 years with Cindy (including a trip that both of them made to Austin to sell stolen CDs from the record store Ginny worked at back in Ft. Worth---they got busted when the Austin record store called the police, and Ginny's parents blamed ME for it, though I had nothing to do with their idiotic plan). And so I did not feel any particular TRUST for this woman! Ha! I LOVED her. And in our brief periods of alone-time, I felt soulfully close to her, probably moreso than I've ever felt for anyone else in my life. I craved being around her and talking to her and interacting with her (and I do still miss her to this day). But... she was a fucking non-trustworthy mess of a person, despite her benign and pleasant exterior!
So, am I going to meet this person in the afterlife, and all things will be wonderful?!
HA! I highly doubt it! :) Just because there was a physical serotonin-reaction of well-being on the planet Earth doesn't mean that we had a real soul-connection.
I won't even go into Sandra at this point (who was my 2nd love, after Ginny). That would take a million more words. And the connection wasn't primarily physical. Although I thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen when I first saw her in Wevill's poetry class in 1986, her actual poetry was the most beautiful and mystical thing. But when I got to know her much better over 20 years later (a primarily phone/e-mail relationship from 2008 until her stroke in 2020), her inner torment was something I absolutely could not handle. Contrary to popular literary/artistic belief, trying to deal with the emotions and thought patterns of someone who's mentally ill is nearly impossible; there is NOTHING you can do for them, despite all of your efforts. They ask for help, you try to give it, they don't want it. Etc.
Memento Vivere.
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