I have always wondered what lies beyond the ceasing of life. What does it feel like? Should we see it as something bad? Is it the ultimate end? I remember asking myself these questions when I was a kid. It probably stemmed from my fear of losing those whom I love. In the news, I would see reports of various random people who die from accidents, murder, or natural causes. I then believed that people die at an epidemic rate, thus escalating my self-manufactured fear.
Why do people have to die then? Is it the failure of the human body to regenerate itself beyond a century? Or is it “His” plan that in the end would “reveal” itself? Does it make life richer by making the privilege of living more attractive to cherish? Death, as it seems, is almost as unchanging or as constant as change itself.
Death is so much a part of life that different cultures have had differing views on its meaning. Some see it as the catalyst for the transition to eternal life. Others believe that death is preordained to those who have lived lives that do not conform to perceived proper human behavior. Furthermore, death, in Japanese culture, is a means of preserving one’s honor. They believe that if one had failed epically, to the extent that to extend one’s time on earth is futile, then self initiated death is the only available honorific act. More recently, death has become more popular as an escape from realities too great to comprehend, as reflected by the great number of suicide related deaths, usually involving the youth. Having that said, we can somehow vaguely conclude that death is something diverse.
What exactly constitutes death? And what does it feel like? Death can be summed up by the absence of consciousness, just like sleep, only that it is permanent in a very grim sense. If that is the case, however, why do we fear it? If we assume that nothing essentially occurs after the dismal transition, because it is the ultimate end, then there is no reason to fear it. Yet, a normal man would be shaken by the very sound of it as it is spoken by another. As a vain attempt to arrive at a satisfying yet still incomplete answer, we can turn our heads toward the biological aspect of our fear of death. The body does everything, even involuntarily, within its capacity to keep itself the furthest from death; thus, we innately see death as something bad. Is this then the absolute answer? Do we dismiss all the nooks and crannies of the answers that are of metaphysical nature? I believe that the scrutiny of all established knowledge is the stepping stone to man’s intellectual impeccability. To continue to philosophize, then, is acutely mandatory.
