The function of life is death.

Philosophy is the practise and study of death.


Zoe Alowan, Transformation, 1998


I imagine that we have all heard stories, have theories about, or believe in something related to what happens when we die. In class the other day, a student of mine was telling me that she knew a woman who had been in a coma, and when she had come out of the coma, she had told people about having seen a bright light. I'm sure you are all familiar with this type of near-death experience which various people have reported having. In fact, as we speak, there is a small cottage industry building up around it.

Let's see if we can get a bit closer to understanding death. Beyond the dee of the human biological machine (HBM) is a vast unknown. But perhaps we can backtrack a bit from the actual death of the HBM, say to exactly the moment before it actually dies. What is it that happens in the moment before death? I was surprised to find that several cultures, including western ones, had the same tradition; that at the moment of death, a man will see his life pass before his eyes. Why would this be so?

One answer stands out: a man will wish to look at his life to see what he has accomplished or, perhaps more importantly, failed to accomplish. What would be the overall feeling at this very intense moment? It will probably be different in every case. But for each of us, there will probably be one overall emotion, an overall state, one which will probably sum up the whole of our lives. It may be fear, it may be disappointment, it may be remorse...

So there we have our human individual, lying on the threshold of some timeless eternity and looking back at the events of a lifetime. Where will he begin? Obviously, he begins at the beginning. The very beginning. And then continues along, detail by detail, moment by moment, sifting through a life that has already been lived.

So there he is, watching the playback. And why is he watching this instant replay of a life already lived? What is the interest? Perhaps there is a fear of moving ahead, a fear of actually entering death itself, of the painful process of surrendering the precious identity, losing a mind and its personality built up over the time spent inhabiting a human biological machine.

How long do you think it takes to watch a replay of a life? I would suspect that it would take exactly the amount of time to watch the replay as it did to make the film of the events of the life in the first place. Then again, at this point where a man finds himself, time certainly cannot be the same as it is in our normal everyday lives.

So what happens is that a man watches his past life with such fascination that he begins to actually believe that he is indeed living it. The frontiers between spectator and actor begin to blur, to break down. Soon, before he is aware of it, he has totally identified with the character and events he is watching. Sensations are so real, everything seems so solid, that it MUST be real. The perspective has changed from that of the projectionist's booth, well outside the field of action, to a point much closer to the action, inside of the screen so to speak. There he is, looking out from what appears to be a place situated inside a head, as if he always had been. If he were hard pressed, where exactly would he say his source of attention, his source of consciousness was located, anyway?

Finally, after what must seem like a lifetime, he naturally arrives back at that very moment of death again, the film is once again winding down, what to do? Same problem, he cannot go forward, much too frightening, especially since from this objective position, he now sees that he has not really accomplished what he was supposed to accomplish; he has been taken in again, fooled again, he has bought into the illusion once more, he has identified with his biological identity once again and forgotten to do the task he had set himself. Perhaps, he'll replay it one more time, there must be something of use. And so, on and on, over and over. We can call this "recurrence".

The problem our hypothetical man has is this: the film is always the same and yet while he watches the film, he wishes to change it. And yet, no matter how many times he replays it, it is impossible to change any of it. How can the film possibly change if it is simply being rewound, replayed and re-viewed? How can anything be changed? Sound familiar?

The problem you the reader now have is this: if you have been following this closely, you are now aware of the fact that you are not really in present time at all. Present time is in a projectionist's booth viewing re-runs of the last life you led. When you reach the end of this current viewing and find yourself once again at the moment of your death, you will not so readily be able to trick yourself into a rewind, and you may be forced to go through and witness the other side of death.

This life you have been comfortably or uncomfortably viewing and "experiencing" over and over was at least the devil you knew. What is it that lies ahead on the other side? Have you prepared? What might it mean to have prepared?  


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