bedtime eyes

PY+J’s baby. b. a few days ago.

So we talk a little about dying. It’s a depressing topic really, one that easily strays into other depressing topics.

If you have a religion, you know – or rather, believe –  that you have someone to rely on. Life becomes easier. To put it in christianity terms, you surrender yourself to god, initiating a metaphorical death of the self that brings about complete release. If you don’t have a religion, you just well, i don’t know, think.

Like you say, perhaps the only way to deal with death is philosophically.

The question of how to live a life well arises. If you are religious, you have an absolute standard to fall back on. If you are not, ethics becomes subjective and personal. Maybe even flexible.

Then there is the meaning of life for someone who has no religion. Some may try to live with a deep intensity, because you know you are dying as you are living. Pleasure, pain, and everything in between. There is nothing else. As there is nothing else, you feel an existential emptiness deep inside. Death makes me love and hate life in itself.

You say you can live for another ten years. I keep quiet, because it’s too short for me.

I want you around longer.

“Thrust your hand deep into life, and whatever you bring up in it, that is you, that is your subject.”

at Esplanade. Got to love his piano-playing, his singing of “To Build a Home” in pitch dark, the weird instrument he carried on his back, the cute sounds the drummer made with his saw, bow and cymbals, as well as the catchy tune the band made up on the spot.

1] the still of the night that speaks volumes. 2] photographs, because meeting them reminds you of past embarrassments and future possibilities. 3] life jackets. They keep you afloat and prevent you from drowning. 4] air, as their presence allows you to breathe a little easier. 5] ideas. Can’t see them, but you think about them.

And I’m missing a really good one who is half the world away.