Atheism and Death
21 June 2006 by Sean
I have known two women who have died over the past seven months, both at very young ages — one mid-20s, one mid-30s. I went to memorial services for both. The first one, for the younger gal, who died poor, was at a bar. The other, tonight, was at a fancier location.
Both women were, to put it mildly, vivacious. The very kind of people that are described by everybody who knows them as “living life full tilt.” No, neither of them died in car crashes, which is how many young people die out here in the wasteland of Car Culture. Both incidents were freak situations that couldn’t be helped. Both were tragic, snatching these young people away at significant points in their lives. Tragic, in fact, to the point of being almost sickeningly ironic.
But that’s not what I wanna talk about (”Bad God! Down!”).
I have lost people — young people — very close to me a number of times; a mother who died too young, a brother who died even younger. I don’t ever shy away from talking about death as many people do, but I don’t like to dwell on it a huge amount, since I find little comfort to be derived from platitudes like “She/he will live on in our hearts.” I heard a lot of that stuff tonight. It was a secular memorial, and in fact filled with talented people expressing themselves beautifully. She was an artist, and so real artists showed up to pay their respects with real performances, not some crazy aunt banging away on a piano and screeching out “You are so bee-yoo-ti-ful to me!” It was the real deal, and people were kicking out some good music while they struggled to hold back their tears. Hard to watch, but also very real and in no way pretentious, self-indulgent or otherwise grotesque.
Also, as an artist, her work was on display. In fact, they had multimedia that showed a great deal of it over time. She was much more talented than I knew. Truly a great loss.
Yes, it’s sad, and it has me pondering the Big Things and all that stuff tonight. I sat alone in the audience because I came in late and rushed for a seat. I cried a lot. But being separated from others allowed me to sit there and ponder what was being said. Even when I found people’s words genuinely moving, another part of my mind was picking out and discarding things I had no use for; y’know, the “she is now in the spirit world, looking over us” stuff. Yes, it was technically a secular ceremony, but god(s) and spirits of all types were evoked by individuals throughout. We were even extolled by one person to call on her spirit when we need it — and (this was some ancient cultural wisdom thrown in) not to believe it when “they” say it is just a coincidence when you call to her and (you know the drill… fill in the blank: the sun comes out, a child laughs, a bell rings, etc.).
I got to thinking about those things we always discuss here at GifS. About how religion is born out of fear of death. How concepts of an afterlife and patron spirits, etc., bring people comfort in a chaotic world that can snatch people away at the peak of their personal powers. And I got to asking myself — very much trying, to borrow a “spiritual” phrase, to “be in the moment” as I sat there: How am I coping with this right now? I wouldn’t even presume to know the pain of her family members, or those who have known her for decades, who were there tonight. And I would never dare bring up doubts about their faith at a time like that. But I knew for many in the audience faith was exactly what was comforting them, secular ceremony or not. I knew it, because I heard them mutter in agreement when people talked about the deceased’s spirit being with us forever (not figuratively, but literally), her death being a gift because she was now some kind of elemental entity, in a better world, etc… Basically, Heaven Talk, however the person’s cultural and personal perspectives led them to phrase it.
So what was my answer? How was I coping with it? I realized that, for me, it always comes back to the same thing. And it did so profoundly tonight, since the victim of “cruel fate” this time was such an accomplished, self-expressive person.
A dear friend of mine, raised Catholic, says this about faith: “I believe for no other reason other than I want to. Not super rational. But I know there is a part of me who would be begging for a priest if death was bearing down.”
I don’t have that option. It would never be true even at the darkest hour. At least not true to me, that’s for sure. So what have I always pictured clinging to at that most telling of moments?
I’ve said it here before. Art. Art is my “spirit guide.” Words, images, creative ideas. That which we can write down, throw on a canvas, sculpt out of stone, illustrate in an equation. That which outlives us. Yes, I am being loose here, including scientific and mathematical concepts as art forms as well. I guess I am simply talking about the act of creating something that lives beyond our years and affects people for generations.
Someone once said to me: “If you ain’t creating art, you ain’t living.” A nihilist would say that this is also fleeting. And I guess it is. Civilizations come and go, continents break apart, asteroids fall, stars die. But if we can stretch out our time just a little bit more than that which we are allotted (and I mean that figuratively, not literally; there ain’t no Great Allotter), then that’s the best we “puny humans” can aspire to. The closest we are going to get to immortality. It’s good enough for me. Hell, it has to be.
I’d love to hear from other atheists about their relationship with the old life/death flip card. When you are faced with others using faith as a means toward comfort in the presence of death, where do you turn? When most people around you are evoking something you can’t believe in, yet you want to — and even deserve to — transform grief into inspiration, what makes you go on? What’s your No-Doz when it comes to the Big Snooze? What makes you shuffle that mortal coil right the fuck back on and spring into action? [Groan... I know, that was bad.]
Tell me how you kick ol’ Thanatos square in the nuts and shout: “Catch you on the flip-side, fucko!”
21 June 2006, on 2:48 am
(Been lurking for a bit, first comment here. Good blog, folks, nice to meet you.)
I was raised generally non-religious. My folks mentioned this “God” guy a few times, and I was offered a Bible once or twice, just in case I was interested, but for the most part, we were pretty secular. I spent much of my life not thinking much about religion at all. My great grandfather and grandfather both died from cancer, and both of their deaths were probably more of a relief to them and us than anything else.
I don’t worry too much about my own death. As someone who’s largely been atheist their whole life, I’ve always figured that after I die, I won’t give a damn anymore, so there’s no point in worrying about it. I just hope it doesn’t suck too much before-hand. Heh.
I’ve not had many people close to me die. Those who have, I tend to think the same way. They aren’t in a position to care or worry, or suffer anymore. I hold on to my memories of them, and move on. I miss them, but they’re gone.
The way I deal with death is to enjoy the memories I have of them in life. That’s why I tend to avoid funerals. I want to remember them alive, not as bodies in over-priced boxes. I’d hate for my last memory of a person to be a scene of anguish and weeping and pain. I’d rather remember the good times.
21 June 2006, on 3:31 am
A great post, so I apologise for not responding in my own words (but maybe the point is for me that it’s humans and life we have to turn to in the face of death):
“If it’s meaninglessness that awaits us, let us so live as to make it an unjust fate.”
(Miguel de Unamuno)
21 June 2006, on 4:12 am
I agree on the idea of funerals. I have only been to a few in my life (not that I haven’t known people that have died — just that I too avoid funerals). I was grateful that tonight’s ceremony didn’t resemble one at all.
21 June 2006, on 4:19 am
“Tell me how you kick ol’ Thanatos square in the nuts and shout.”
A short poem I wrote a few years ago:
MORPHEUS THE BROTHER OF THANATOS
At my age the best entertainment I have
Is to practice dying about once every day.
That is, as Gandhi once said;
“I paractice dying by going to bed
And when I awake in the morn
Like a baby, I’m reborn.”
Before you heed this advise
Remember to always be nice.
Or when your reborn as a tyke
Your friends may just take a hike.
So when your asleep, enjoy it
And when you wake
Don’t make the mistake
Of repeating your vice
It’s just not very nice.
So remember that life is worth living
Especially when your giving and giving.
After dying all night you’ll forget your indiscretions
In the morn it’s a clean slate but, beware of imperfections
21 June 2006, on 6:17 am
Why do some atheists have to be so dramatic about death? The problem is that in our Western civilization we are not taught how to come to grasp with death. Christianity just evades the whole topic by saying that we’ll live forever. No wonder people are so fucked up about it.
21 June 2006, on 7:31 am
Art. Art is my “spirit guide.” Words, images, creative ideas. That which we can write down, throw on a canvas, sculpt out of stone, illustrate in an equation. That which outlives us.
Sean, I love this part. I keep journals, write fiction and non-fiction…draw and paint (I also make porcelain dolls). It’s something of me that I will leave behind that hopefully friends and loved ones will remember me by and won’t chuck it into the dumpster after I am gone!
As for funerals…I think that is a morbid custom. My husband and I have in our wills that we are to be cremated…ashes scattered out on Lake Michigan off the north shores of our Sweet Home Chicago. NO funeral and NO MEMORIAL SERVICES but a big ol’ Irish-style party…and everyone can talk, exchange memories (good and bad, funny and sad) and have a few beers and then carry on with the business of living.
21 June 2006, on 8:35 am
Art is my thing, too. I’ve already written about it here, just a few days ago in fact.
Lovely post, btw.
21 June 2006, on 9:17 am
Kvitsh Says:
Art is my thing, too. I’ve already written about it here, just a few days ago in fact.
Lovely post, btw.
Thanks, K’vitsh. I just read yours. Really good. I didn’t know about Anderson Cooper’s book. My brother also committed suicide, and I think such an “off-time death” (as psychologists sometimes phrase it) do make you think about mortality a lot more during the course of your life. I believe there is, and must be, a median to this statement you make:
It seems sometimes the death of someone you love can fuck you up forever. You’ll never get over it, never heal, never move on. I’ve heard different things about this. It depends on the person, it depends how one defines healing. Some people make peace, some never do – they just learn to navigate around the pain.
Yes, navigate around it sometimes, but also face it full on now and again. An ebb and flow:
Life and passion.
Reality check, restructuring of priorities.
Life and passion.
Reality check, restructuring of priorities.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
21 June 2006, on 9:41 am
stardust1954 Says:
I keep journals, write fiction and non-fiction…draw and paint (I also make porcelain dolls).
That’s cool, Stardust. I didn’t know that about you.
As for funerals…I think that is a morbid custom. My husband and I have in our wills that we are to be cremated…ashes scattered out on Lake Michigan off the north shores of our Sweet Home Chicago. NO funeral and NO MEMORIAL SERVICES but a big ol’ Irish-style party…and everyone can talk…
To be clear, last night’s event was not your typical “memorial service.” It was filled with laughter and song. And people did hang around for a big party afterward (I didn’t for long, but I have a huge project I am delivering this week). It was also only one of many events to celebrate this person — not the big one with the scattering of ashes or anything. That happened elsewhere in the country earlier this month. I haven’t been to any such thing… An actual funeral… Since I was a kid. And I don’t think I would go to one. I try to avoid funerals and weddings both. If conducted at all, I think they should be private affairs. But a night of art, music and celebration in someone’s name… I’ll do that.
Francois Tremblay Says:
Why do “some atheists” have to be so dramatic about death?
No offense, Francois, but way to go in avoiding the topic. How is death not “dramatic?”
“The problem is that in our Western civilization we are not taught how to come to grasp with death.” So give up those pearls of wisdom, friend.
JavaElement says:
I’ve not had many people close to me die. Those who have, I tend to think the same way. They aren’t in a position to care or worry, or suffer anymore. I hold on to my memories of them, and move on. I miss them, but they’re gone.
The way I deal with death is to enjoy the memories I have of them in life. That’s why I tend to avoid funerals. I want to remember them alive, not as bodies in over-priced boxes. I’d hate for my last memory of a person to be a scene of anguish and weeping and pain. I’d rather remember the good times.
So that’s three of us now who really don’t “do” funerals. I wonder if that is a pattern among atheists?
Ian Says:
“If it’s meaninglessness that awaits us, let us so live as to make it an unjust fate.”
Nice. Too long for a t-shirt. But nice.
Tony D Says:
After dying all night…
Great turn of phrase. We live all day and die all night, only to live again the next day.
21 June 2006, on 10:01 am
We have evolved a susceptibility to believe in the supernatural. It is reinforced by our believing relatives when we are young, and even by our non believing relatives because everyone goes along with Santa and flying reindeer, the Ark story, etc.
It doesn’t take much for a child to believe this stuff, because it is in our genes.
I have become more of an observer when it comes to death and funerals of late. I used to fight believing in what the believers were saying about the “wind” and the spirit, etc. Now I just watch believers tear up as they deep down know their loved one is gone for eternity. At a funeral, it is almost impossible to find someone who isn’t looking at the dead as dead and gone with no spirit…yet afterwards, they talk like an afterlife is a matter of fact.
When my father died, at the funeral, I just found myself staring at the casket, accepting the fact that my father was gone, and that was it, while trying to accept the fact that I couldn’t talk to him anymore.
21 June 2006, on 10:53 am
Death is death. Loss can be unbearable and no amount of “he/she is in a better place” can take the edge off of it- unless that “better place” is dead and out of the reach of platitudinous fuckknobs crowing about “better places”. Further, such snake oil comfort only prolongs the grieving process, the reality that they are gone, period, we must adjust to. But they are always with us, amorphous memory waiting to be summoned by a word, a smell, a not quite familiar face, by the reminiscing of another.
If I had to vote one way or the other, it’d probably be “no” but I haven’t completely ruled out ghosts- of the god-free variety of course. Though that’s neither here nor there. Myself, I favor cremation and a blow out at the departed’s favorite local, the celebration of life and a hearty “Fuck you!” to the reaper. To quote Shane MacGowan;
“…I’m sad to say I must be on my way
So buy me beer and whiskey, boys
I’m goin’ far away.
I’d like to think of me returnin’ when I can
to the greatest little boozer and to
Sally MacLennane…”
Seriously, Sean, I’m sorry for your loss and I wish you good grieving and fond memories.
21 June 2006, on 11:07 am
Nothing. Nothing comforts me, because I don’t believe anything is really supposed to. The logical part of me says that it’s weak, and just as illogical as the religious inventing “spiritual” garbage, to seek comfort in something intangible when grieving. The emotional part of me feels that it’s wrong to try to play down the situation when someone is laying dead five feet away. I feel I owe it to them to grieve, if that makes sense.
I feel extremely uncomfortable at funerals because they really aren’t about the dead. They’re a pony show of back-rubbing, hugs and platitudes for the living to make them feel better.
Very recently my lifelong care-provider died of brain cancer. My brother and I dealt with it hard, and both of us hated the services. He was a pall-bearer, and he found comfort in that because before she died she had requested he be one of the ones to lay her to rest. Having acknowlegement like that, that you meant something to this person so much that they would want you there with them even in death, I think that’s the most comforting thing you can have.
21 June 2006, on 12:42 pm
I’ll pipe in here about not really being in to the whole funeral scene. I agree with Julie about funerals being more about a dog and pony show to make the living feel better, I just don’t need to feel better in that manner. I deal with it on my own terms.
HOWEVER, with that said, I did go to a funeral of the mother of one of my daughter’s school mates who had died tragically. It was a very large funeral, with the church filled to capacity and standing room only, spilling out into the sidewalk.
At one point in this service there is a “moment of silence” and they play “Amazing Grace” over the speaker system. The speakers were more like intercom speakers and the recording was for shit, scratchy and tinny sounding. We all listened quietly for the entire wrenching song.
Then, as soon as the tinny, nasty, recording stopped, this enormous black woman who was sitting in the middle of the crowd begins to belt out the most beautiful rendition of AG that I have ever heard. She had a BIG voice that filled the church, and she had obviously done this before. Up until that moment, there were plenty of tears, but as soon as that woman started singing, I tell ya, there wasn’t a dry eye in the place, including my own.
I’ll never forget that moment. While those sorts of moments are rare, I’m not quite so anxious about sitting through the more moronic moments of a funeral. There *are* people who “get” what a funeral should be about, and there are people who understand that an overpriced casket is the pinnacle of foolishness. Don’t discount the funeral altogether. You never know what will happen, and you may find others that feel the same way.
21 June 2006, on 12:55 pm
“For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can’t readily accept the God formula, the big answers don’t remain stone-written. We adjust to new conditions and discoveries. We are pliable. Love need not be a command or faith a dictum. I am my own God. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.”
……….Charles Bukowski (1920-1994)
21 June 2006, on 1:17 pm
No matter how you dress up a pig, it’s still a pig. Obviously, if you only have today to live for, the best thing to do is to “eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” It may be true that the yearning for the eternal comes from the imminence of death. That does not disprove the existence of the deity, and in fact, may prove his design. (Do chickens care what happens after the ax?)
Again, Christian faith does not call for living out of fear. (There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. – 1st John 4:18)
It seems that both Bertram Russel and the writer of Ecclesiastes had it right – life without a deity becomes a booming buzzing confusion, a meaningless passage, making men sound and fury designating nothing. So, enjoy life all the meaningless days of your life. Do whatever you can, have whatever relationships you want, with all your abilities, because death comes and it’s all over.. so you think. – Ecclesiastes 9:7-10 paraphrased and abbreviated
21 June 2006, on 1:18 pm
My first girlfriend died four years ago as of June 13. I remember the day I got that call from her mother. I walked down into the basement with my current girlfriend (the first broke up with me about a year before) and I sat on the sofa and just started bawling.
And to make matters worse I wasn’t even able to mourn because less than six months later my second relationship fell apart.
I miss her a lot and I wish I could talk to her again. I still cry when I hear that song that goes “One more day/One more time.” It’s country, not sure what it’s called.
But I realize that I won’t ever see her again, or talk to her again, but I do now realize just why the idea of not really dying, but living on in paradise is such a prevalent and popular idea. The thought of death and just ceasing to be, to no longer exist, is a very humbling thought. I just recently came to gripes with what death means, and let me tell you it made writing death scenes all that much harder.
21 June 2006, on 1:28 pm
I work in cancer care, so I do tend to go to more funerals than most ppl. That being said I have noticed a huge difference between those held in a church and those held at the funeral parlor.
I have had to sit there and bit my lip to stop from screaming at the pastor/priest/religious leader of your choice to STOP USING THE FUNERAL AS A ‘Sinners repent’ sermon. While most funerals held in the funeral parlor tend to be ‘rememberance based’ without all the voodoo hooey that religions inflict upon the masses.
I go as a sign of respect for the deceased and to comfort the living. (we tend to grow close to our patients and their families its just part of the nature of the beast) Even now, when I remember patient ‘X’, it is rare that I remember them in a casket, but instead I remember how they were in life, its the same for family members of mine that have passed.
A funeral is just another step in the grieving and coping process, it may or may not be necessary but it is common. Personally I will do as my father has done (set down in writting, nonetheless – take me out of wherever it is I died and toast my ass. No embalming, no viewing, no funeral.) As my father says, “If they couldn’t be bothered to visit me while I’m alive, I see no point in waiting for them after I’m dead. Take the money and have fun with it, don’t you dare waste it on the dead.”
As for the whole ‘afterlife’ thing. I’m a bit more torn on that, I’d like to think that part of us does hang around, at least for a bit, you know, get some answers to questions that befuddled us while alive. But if there is nothing after this life, I doubt I’ll care or even notice after I’m dead, so either way, its all good.
21 June 2006, on 1:31 pm
I’m an entomologist. Hopefully I’ll be helping people identify cryptic click beetle larvae with my molecular keys long after I’m dead
21 June 2006, on 1:42 pm
I’m also an organ donor. There are so many people waiting and so much religious bullshit preventing people from donating…I figure I better do my part. Funerals are kind of yucky anyway, with everybody looking at the corpse. It’s better to use my parts to make people healthy and burn the rest.
21 June 2006, on 2:05 pm
The one simple fact exists: Death happens. Religion, perhaps, has been the most powerful human reaction to this inescapable predicament. The earliest known human religious rituals have been found in grave sites (how do we know they’re religious? We don’t, but it’s a good guess). Religion, as we should well know, rears its preposterous head whenever there’s a life changing event: birth, injury, loss, commitment, and, of course, death: religions have developed BECAUSE they help people deal with these traumatic events.
What are atheists left with, then? Art, Culture, Community, Psychology, and Philosophy? Are these enough?
21 June 2006, on 2:14 pm
I don’t know how to find comfort after someone close dies. My sister died in March and I’m still numb. She is gone and I will never see her again. She was cremated and there was no funeral. We had a dinner in her honor and that’s exactly what I want. No funeral, have a nice party and think of me with fondness.
21 June 2006, on 2:50 pm
As someone edging towards the Seventh decade of life, I sometimes find it curious that, getting closer to the more likely [and certain] age of death, I’m MORE of an Atheist than I was in previous decades. I’m 66; my gal companion of some 31 years is 65….we’re both atheists, with no children; but went through many changes together. We were both New Age types when we met in 1973 and the idea of Reincarnation was a big part of that thinking. The main concept we both agree on at this point is the basic definition of Atheism: the non-belief and non-worship of any gods! [Speaking for myself, I remain Agnostic as to any after death survival of 'consciousness'...if anything, it would have to be more of a Buddhist, or Robert A. Monroe variety!...anyone interested in that view, read "Journeys out of the Body" etc....(I know! ... Everything is Bullshit!)]
Since there’s no way to REALLY know about any afterlife shtick…why get your ’shorts’ all twisted over it?
Both my parents are gone; my dad died, just shy of 72 in June of 1977; Mom died in 1987, at 80, in a nursing home…a 14 year, dragged out affair; with the feeding tube shtick for about the last 2 years. I was at my dad’s wake, with the usual open casket; saw my Mom in a hospital, all shriveled up looking like a Peruvian mummy [Dehydration], two weeks before her death. I kissed her on her forehead and said my good-byes.
[No funeral services were attended, as I recall!]
I’ve had quite a few friends, and fellow musicians pass; and usually avoid going to the funerals; basically to avoid the Churchy baloney. One of my closest High School buddies died in Sept. 2004 after having an incurable lung disease [I even have a recording of talking to him about religion and my non-belief]; he and his family chose to ‘let him go’ rather than keeping on with extraordinary means. I went to the wake, and stood by the casket with another old buddy, making some typical buddy comments; but it was when I talked briefly to the deceased’s gal friend, that I got very emotional for a rare moment. That reminds me of an important issue regarding death…that of freedom of CHOICE regarding dying,…Euthanasia…Dr. Kavorkian…yada, yada! I won’t go into that issue here; but I really resent the religious boneheads…ala the Schiavo shtick…telling anyone how they should or shouldn’t deal with their OWN death. I’m working on my own project…[well,...I haven't gotten too far yet!...can I laugh?]…making up my own “Self Deliverance Kit”! ‘You know’…the: “If things get REALLY bad…I chomp on this pill [what!...ala das Nazi shvine?] in my mouth…and put this airtight bag over my head!”…Yeah, and then?…leave a NO wake up call?…Hmmm…reminds me also of the series: “6 Feet Under!”
‘Nough of that…
I agree, basically with so many of your comments; and can empathize with everyone in all the myriad situations.
What usually ’springs’ to my mind these days; even, possibly, with more understanding, and acceptance than in previous times of my life, is the [paraphrased] old Shakespearean musing:
[from Hamlet?]…
After all the “Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Fortune”…
“Death [Thanatos?],…where is Thy sting?”
Alas, to all: BE WELL!!!
21 June 2006, on 4:45 pm
Hello, I Am usually a lurker but I felt like weighing in here. It has always seemed to me that ideas of living on after death were no good to anyone unless the person was “themselves”. What good is a disembodied spirit with God to anybody. I for one am immensely comforted to know that I do not have to worry about anything…I hope to be cremated to avoid the necessary rot thing, and my atoms will go back to where they came from and where they all will go sooner or later, back to the stars I came from. If we cannot meet “mom” and our “best friend” in “Heaven” what use is worrying about “living on”. It is a shallow comfort because if anyone ever actually thinks it out it vanishes in a puff of elementary logic. Besides if my dad were there I sure would want to avoid the old bastard.
Thanks for letting me ramble on.
Betsy
21 June 2006, on 4:51 pm
Thanks, ChuckA. I enjoyed reading that. “No wake up call.” Nice.
21 June 2006, on 5:01 pm
Julie said:
Having acknowlegement like that, that you meant something to this person so much that they would want you there with them even in death, I think that’s the most comforting thing you can have.
I will say that the service I went to last night shows if you are going to do something to honor the dead, that’s the way to do it. And I do think that is a worthy thing to do… Honor and celebrate their lives.
21 June 2006, on 5:17 pm
GIFS,
That was masterful. I’m glad I found this blog.
I, too, endevor to leave a footprint or ripple in this world that will “live-on” long after I’m gone. I think it’s something everyone should aspire to. I think it’s one of the greatest things a person could strive for.
Death, for me, is all about missing the person – no longer having that person in my life. Once they’re DEAD, it isn’t really even about the person, but the OTHER people at the funeral or in the hospital room, or whatever.
I don’t think it’s sad to BE dead or even that it sucks to be dead because there’s no consciousness for it to suck. Just… Snip. Gone.
Doing something, or acting, in someone’s HONOR is quite another thing. I often think that my grandfather would be proud of something I did “if he could see me”, but I know that he can’t. It’s just about acting in a way that honor’s who the deceased person WAS and they sort of “live on” in that way too, through the people they affected when they were alive.
I like what you said about not being comforted by platitudes. In fact, I feel downright comfortable when people do things things like telling a dieing person that they’re going to go be with their dead spouse. That shit kinda creeps me out in a way.
Another thing that just gives me the heebeejeebees, and I don’t know if it belongs here…
is the whole thing about dressing up and embalming the body for EVERYONE to look at… and TOUCH!
Screw that! I don’t want anyone looking at my corpse when I’m gone. Can a person BE anymore naked than that? Is there anything more shameful?
The last memory I want to have of an expired loved one is of that loved one ALIVE – alive and vibrant and as THEMSELVES. Not as some lump of goo all sewn together and petrified… EWWW! I have the willies now! I gotta stop now.
-JJ
21 June 2006, on 5:19 pm
Make that “downright UNCOMFORTABLE”. -JJ
21 June 2006, on 5:55 pm
I’ll tell you how I, a humanist, deal with death: I’m terrified of it. I believe that death is the same as not existing, and I don’t want to not exist. For a taste of what it is to be dead, just think about what it was like before you were born. It’s the same thing, except that once you’re dead you don’t get a chance at life in the future. Your time is done. FOREVER.
So when I think of being dead I feel all weird inside. I get very uneasy, almost panicky. It frieghtens the living crap out of me. I may be ripe for picking from the religionists, because I REALLY REALLY want to believe that I will continue to “be” after my body has ceased to function. Yet the logical side of me just can’t see any alternative. Nothing makes more sense to me than that I will no longer exist.
My wife, also a humanist, can’t be bothered with worrying about death. It just doesn’t matter to her that one day she will be gone. She lives life until it’s over, and then… poof. Done. It’s no big deal to her.
One good thing about my belief is that it keeps me healthy. I exercise and eat right because I want to maximize my time. If I believed that I’d live on after death, I wouldn’t bother with low fat foods and cardiovascular workouts. It would be so much easier.
21 June 2006, on 6:46 pm
I read this a long time ago . to me this is a salute to those who came before us and lived a noble life in this manner. some people refer to them as the “Forever Ones” It is also an encouragement to those of us with more to live. To start each day well. Good story by the way I really enjoyed it.
To Live The Right Life
“So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart. Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their view, and demand that they respect yours. Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life. Seek to make your life long and It’s purpose in the service of your people. Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide. Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, even a stranger, when in a lonely place. Show respect to all people and bow to none. When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the food and The Joy of Living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself. Abuse no one and nothing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of it’s vision. When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.” — Tecumseh – Shawnee -
22 June 2006, on 12:34 am
My experience is not with death, but with a tragic and life changing freak accident where being an atheist made it easier to deal with it. Ten months ago my 5 year old daughter was in a freak accident in the home where she was caught in a closet and unable to breath. The accident caused brain damage and she still has a long way to go (can’t walk, talk, or eat).
We got all the usual thoughts and prayers sent our way. I kept thinking “what kind of god would let this happen, and if he did, what the hell will all the prayers accomplish”, or in my more pissed off moods “fuck your god”! Of coarse the Xian’s would say “god is blessing you” or “he works in mysterious ways”. What a load of crap! If this god of theirs is so omnipotent, why did he/she/it let this happen? If he answers prayers, then why not stop it from happening in the first place. Why do the xians feel better praying after such freaky and tragic accidents? It is much easier to accept (not that it is easy) that shit happens and it just happened to happen to her. This experience has just solidified further both my wife’s and my disbelief. We feel better knowing that it was an accident, instead of some imaginary being letting it happen to test/punish her or us.
We have learned to be diplomatic when people say they are keeping our daughter in their prayers. They really do care about her so we learn to deal with the comments. My wife had a great response when a friend said after hearing the story “you guys are really blessed”. My wife said “you have no idea how blessed we feel”!
22 June 2006, on 12:43 am
When I was 13 years old a revered friend and mentor answered a question for me. I asked him what he thought about death and dying. He grinned and said, “did you worry about getting here?” “No” I answered – “then why worry about leaving” was his final reply. That answer simlified my life in so many ways. I’m coming up on my 70th birthday and 48th wedding anniversary – it has been a great journey.
22 June 2006, on 1:58 am
The one time in my life when death was close was when I having chemo for a cancer that had spread to multiple locations in my body. Only 25 to 30% of people in your condition survive, I was told. I was terrified – of the drugs, of the side effects, but far and away most of all, of dying. I wasn’t brave – I became an anxious, nervous wreck, at times hysterical. I wasn’t afraid of death, as such – the nothingness of death is nothing to be scared of – but I wanted to live, and so was scared to lose my life. As it happened, it wasn’t my time – I was lucky.
I hope that now if this happened to me again I would be more accepting of the twists and turns of life and death – I am older and hopefully wiser. But if we want to keep living, or those who are dead didn’t want to die, there is no comfort (as Julie said), there’s nothing we can say to death or to ourselves or to others that changes anything. I reckon I want to live just as much as I did then, and would be just as terrified that this life – this one short bit we get – was going to end. I guess I’m saying that fear of death is OK – we can aspire to rise above this fear, we can make death seem unjust, we can live the best we can – but if we want to live, death is always going be fearful. (But kill me when my brain packs it in.)
22 June 2006, on 2:33 am
[...] I was thinking about my funeral, due to having left a comment at this post on GifS. I’ve already told my friends and family that, when I die, I want to be cremated. I’ve charged my friends with the important duty of sneaking my ashes into the coffee maker at the funeral, so that everone can take a bit of Java home with them. In addition to this, I demand that, where the coffin should sit, there be a big, heavy, round oak table. On this table shall be all the accoutrements for gaming: pens, pencils, rule books, dice, etc. At my funeral, I want folks to have a rousing game of something. I mean, it should be an excellent gaming session. I want shouting and cussing and dice rolling, combat and dramatic scenes, laughter and bullshitting. At least once, I want someone to attempt to Summon Mithras, even if it totally doesn’t apply to the system. Also, I don’t want any crappy gospel music. No preachers, using my death as an opportunity to convert people, either. MrJames is ordained; he did my wedding. If he’s still around, he can say something about me. Preferably something nice. I want good music played, to get back to the point. Loud, fun stuff. I’m not a drinker, but there should be some booze there, too, for those who want it. And, an inflatable waterslide. I want an inflatable waterslide at my funeral. And a pony ride. And a popcorn vendor. I mean, y’know. Have a good time with it, folks. [link] [...]
22 June 2006, on 4:40 am
Oh. I’ll definitely have to write a big long comment about this later. I’m damn neurotic and terrified when it comes to death.
22 June 2006, on 11:34 am
P. Wayne Townsend:
This is a post that specifically invited agnostic/atheists to comment on how they deal with the subject of death, yet for some strange reason you as an “educated (2 master degrees) intelligent (IQ 142) evangelical calvinist with a pretty hearty sense of humor (especially about atheism)” took it upon yourself to not only comment here, but mock the other commenters with such gems of insight as “No matter how you dress up a pig, it’s still a pig.”
As a xian, you believe in an all-present, -powerful, -knowing, -good, perfect god, an extraordinary claim; as you no doubt know, extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof. Please provide incontrovertible, irrefutable hard scientific evidence for the actual existence of this god, or we have no basis for engagement in meaningful conversation with you.
22 June 2006, on 3:12 pm
Well said, Eve.
P. Wayne Townsend Says:
It seems that both Bertram Russel and the writer of Ecclesiastes had it right – life without a deity becomes a booming buzzing confusion, a meaningless passage, making men sound and fury designating nothing. So, enjoy life all the meaningless days of your life. Do whatever you can, have whatever relationships you want, with all your abilities, because death comes and it’s all over.. so you think.
What a perfectly self-righteous asshole. But who would expect any less from a bible-thumper?
22 June 2006, on 9:56 pm
Dear Mr. Townsend, I was wondering whether you meant Bertrand Russell or if there is actually a fellow called “Bertram Russel”?
Bertrand Russell was a mechanistic atheist and an unrepentant hedonist so, to quote him would be the equivalent of me citing Pat Robertson. Mr. Russell had many brilliant thoughts, the first of which, is specifically for you, P.Wayne:
“A stupid man’s report of what a clever man says can never be accurate, because he unconsciously translates what he hears into something he can understand.”
“Men fear thought as they fear nothing else on earth — more than ruin — more even than death…. Thought is subversive and revolutionary, destructive and terrible, thought is merciless to privilege, established institutions, and comfortable habit. Thought looks into the pit of hell and is not afraid. Thought is great and swift and free, the light of the world, and the chief glory of man.”
“So far as I can remember, there is not one word in the Gospels in praise of intelligence.”
“The people who are regarded as moral luminaries are those who forego ordinary pleasures themselves and find compensation in interfering with the pleasures of others.”
“The fact that an opinion has been widely held is no evidence whatever that it is not utterly absurd; indeed in view of the silliness of the majority of mankind, a widespread belief is more likely to be foolish than sensible.”
“Every man, wherever he goes, is encompassed by a cloud of comforting convictions, which move with him like flies on a summer day.”
“We have, in fact, two kinds of morality side by side: one which we preach but do not practice, and another which we practice but seldom preach.”
“Fear is the main source of superstition, and one of the main sources of cruelty. To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom.”
“Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown and partly, as I have said, the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. … A good world needs knowledge, kindliness, and courage; it does not need a regretful hankering after the past or a fettering of the free intelligence by the words uttered long ago by ignorant men.”
— Bertrand Russell, Why I Am Not a Christian and Other Essays on Religion and Related Subjects
23 June 2006, on 12:40 am
If, when I pass, as long as I have friends, or family who survive me, and the remembrance of me brings a smile to their face or better yet, a hearty laugh, that’s enough, I think.
My worst fear would be to outlive them all and die alone in a nursing home as the anonymous crazy old coot down in room 5A. I feel very sorry for atheists who live long enough to be put in Nursing homes. The few that I’ve been in are overpoweringly full of religious iconography, services, etc, and I bet the peer pressure (and staff pressure) is none to subtle either.
My favorite quotes people have brought up so far have been the Bukowski quote and of course the quotes from dear old Bertand Russell, who is a personal hero of mine. I try to eat healthy, get in some walking, etc; but my parents and I go around and around about my preference for beer and fine food.
“What about your health?” they ask?
They just look at me uncomprehendingly when I say things like:
“Did it ever occur to you that I don’t necessarily want to live until I’m a doddering old man? That I’d rather drink beer, eat BBQ, tell jokes, read books, watch interesting movies, get laid every now and then, and engage in creative writing and otherwise enjoy myself and maybe die a little sooner than subsist on bran muffins, mineral water, low-fat this, lean that and live until I’m 105?”
All things in moderation, I guess, and I have experienced natural “highs” from good exercise, so I don’t knock it, by any means. Obesity in this country is a serious problem, too. But by the same token…living a life of denial just to always be able to squeeze into size 36 pants?? Uh, no thanks.
Agree with the others that funerals suck, and do my best to avoid going. Wakes, on the other hand, totally rock. I’ve told my parents I don’t want any priest or pastor at my funeral, but if they outlive me rather than the other way around, I have doubts that my wishes would be honored.
My late Uncle David’s funeral was very interesting because there was a pastor at it, but I also knew David pretty well–he was by far my coolest Uncle. He did drink too much, and paid the price for it, but I rarely saw him visibly drunk…he was extremely smart, well educated, eccentric and held a very low opinion of superstitious people in general, and religious fanatics in particular. But because he came from a prominent, well-to-do Missouri family, they had a pastor up there going on and on about his supposed faith, which I guess was for the benefit of propriety, to not give offense, but to those of us who really knew Uncle David, we could scarcely keep from snickering at all the fatuous bullshit being spouted from the pulpit. It was almost like he’d rigged a giant practical joke that only a select few were in on. It would’ve been just like him to do that, too. I really miss talking to him–still do. He was the only other unabashed liberal Democrat (besides me) in a family full of Republicans.
I also lost an adult friend in his 50s I knew when I was in graduate school; his crazy girlfriend murdered him. It was quite a shock. He was an eccentric, artsy person as well, and I think contributed more to my intellectual development in graduate school than my classes did. We’d critique each other’s creative writing all day, sharing a jug of wine between us, cracking jokes, making insightful comments, working and re-working our writing samples, etc. Might not have been the most mature thing to do, but when I found out about his death, it was by means of a newspaper article someone had posted in one of our favorite watering holes. I sat down on the barstool, numb, and drank. A lot. I knew I would not be driving home, that I’d be calling my Dad to come get me–embarassing, yes, but it had to be done. I spent the evening talking to anyone and everyone that had known my friend, remembering him, honoring him. When I’d had my fill, I called my Dad, and he picked me up. He was upset, but glad I didn’t try driving home. I explained on the ride home that I’d lost a close friend and had only just found out about it (we’d sort of lost touch when I had to move off campus and back in with my parents to save on grad school expenses–since he lived right around campus and now I no longer did).
I reject New-Agey platitudes same as I reject Xtian ones. All I know is that I strive to do meantingful work that helps people and makes a real difference in people’s lives, and i’m gratified that my current job lets me do that, albeit for a too modest salary. It’s why I went back to grad school and earned my MLS, and why I’m still looking for a good job as a reference librarian–out of a desire to help people, to make a difference in the world. If I ever publish any books that stay in print after my death, yeah, that’d be great, but ultimately, I’m ok if people just fondly remember me in some of my wittier moments.
The family death that impacted me the most was my paternal grandfather’s, because even at my tender young age of 8, I knew religion was hooey and that “Pa” was gone forever, and that really hurt. I cried and cried and cried. Still miss him too, he was by far a great grandpa, warm, funny, never serious. I feel I’m inspired by the same muse as he was, at times.
I liked the Buddhist Alan Watts’s contention that the same way a flower blooms, the universe “I-s” (say “eyes”, but meaning “I” but more rarified than mere conscious Ego, which Watts insisted does NOT survive bodily death)…I don’t buy into it, gone is gone to me–maybe I’m too “Western”, but I do grant it was an interesting way to look at it from the perspective of a non-theistic ‘religion’.
I sometimes wonder if fear of losing someone sometimes inhibits me from making close friendships anymore. I lost a lot of longtime high school friends in the ugliness of my 2004 divorce…why people feel the need to take sides in such personal matters that don’t involve them is still beyond me…
Anyway, those are my thoughts–sorry for rambling a bit. It’s not an easy subject to address.
23 June 2006, on 7:16 am
Jaundice James Says:
I’m glad I found this blog.
Welcome, Jaundice James. Glad to have you here. I really enjoyed your comments.
John Says:
I sometimes wonder if fear of losing someone sometimes inhibits me from making close friendships anymore. I lost a lot of longtime high school friends in the ugliness of my 2004 divorce…why people feel the need to take sides in such personal matters that don’t involve them is still beyond me…
That really struck me. Not that I have been through a divorce, but I have seen a number of them, and that taking of sides and cutting off of relationships forever is quite bizarre. It is a personal matter between the two individuals involved. Why people become so binary, so all-or-nothing about other people’s relationships, has always befuddled me.
Thanks for your great comments. Your grandpa must have been some guy.
23 June 2006, on 7:20 am
RDZ: Thanks for the Bertrand Russell quotes. I have always planned to read everything he wrote as soon as I have the time. Definitely reading for my retirement.
24 June 2006, on 2:35 am
Art is as fine a bulwark against Ye Olde Minus Tide as anything I can think of. All individuals, as atomic souls tossed on the entropic froth, are at risk for oblivion, but art is a way of farming the self out among other nodes to make it less vulnerable. As sex distributes DNA, art distributes memes; in both cases (w. any luck) your identity has been fielded; you have achieved a form of immortality — the only kind at this point we can be empirically sure of. So there’s art’s central utility. Plus it’s fun, and, if done right, can get you laid.
Of course there are those who say our need for survival is an obsession we’d be better off without; cf. Buddhists who say attachment to the world creates suffering. And ya know, they got a point — if we weren’t so attached to people and things and life in general, we wouldn’t suffer so much when we lose them. Some would call that a form of nihilism — I reserve my opinion, except to note that attachment and suffering have created some of our greatest art.
Of course those old detached sensei motherfuckers nodding over their bonsai and tofu have kicked us some bad-ass art too…it’s left as an exercise for the reader to determine whether serene ricepaper watercolors of mist-covered mountains can match Michaelangelo’s tortured screeds in marble and fresco.
Hoo raw.
11 October 2006, on 7:55 pm
[...] For Sean, who among many other things, loved history and understood so well why we need to remember it [...]