Death is the greatest terror of mortals. It's the fear of nothingness that drives people into the arms of the massive patriarchal religions. These scary organisations promise an eternal blissful afterlife -- as long as you follow their religious rules.
Some of us who feel that death is a great transition -- of bodily our atoms and molecules into other forms of energy and matter -- are pretty comfortable with our eventual exit.
Cemeteries are beautiful places to muse on our mortality and memories.
Your words highlight the trouble we humans have with Contradiction. There you are doing a healthy thing in a cemetery (walking) while talking about some of the unhealthy things about cemeteries. I'm learning not to be threatened when cultural structures appear discordant; Choosing rather, for example, to be fascinated by the mystery of a person's reaction to your jogging while they are grieving. Life is beautiful that way, in a way, showing us that it's not all about us. And, as you correctly observe sweet Leah, the dead are past caring what any of us decides is important.
Death is the greatest terror of mortals. It's the fear of nothingness that drives people into the arms of the massive patriarchal religions. These scary organisations promise an eternal blissful afterlife -- as long as you follow their religious rules.
Some of us who feel that death is a great transition -- of bodily our atoms and molecules into other forms of energy and matter -- are pretty comfortable with our eventual exit.
Cemeteries are beautiful places to muse on our mortality and memories.
Looking forward to your interview with Clover. And I too would have felt very sad if my mum - same age - had said only a few more years. But she’d probably be right
The funny thing is he didn’t mean it in a mortality sense but more like, “time to sell the boat and book us a trip to Australia” kind of way. He laughed when he saw the video!
Your dad sounds lovely. But I relate to that gut punch we feel with even the idea that a parent - a particular parent I should add - will die. I feel that about my mum.
I’m sorry Paul. I understand what you mean. I think it’s very, very complicated, the question of what we should/ought to use these spaces for. In the Middle Ages cemeteries were commonly used as community gathering spaces and picnic grounds in England — and there was a lot more green space everywhere back then. Our relationship and rituals in dealing with mortality and the dead change over time. We are in a confused period perhaps.
Over here in Italy, the cemeteries use much less real estate, so generations of the dead are entombed in family crypts. These are places to go to delight in architecture and human-made landscapes which are a wonderful distraction from the contemplation of mortality. These are the necropoli - cities of the dead where history is layered in a way that suggests a microcosm of the world beyond their walls. They are a busy space-time that evokes life. They suggest also the possibility that the gathered ghosts enjoy midnight bacchanals, a wine-fed abandonment of the grave morals of the living.
Death is the greatest terror of mortals. It's the fear of nothingness that drives people into the arms of the massive patriarchal religions. These scary organisations promise an eternal blissful afterlife -- as long as you follow their religious rules.
Some of us who feel that death is a great transition -- of bodily our atoms and molecules into other forms of energy and matter -- are pretty comfortable with our eventual exit.
Cemeteries are beautiful places to muse on our mortality and memories.
Love your walkabout and your own musings :)
Your words highlight the trouble we humans have with Contradiction. There you are doing a healthy thing in a cemetery (walking) while talking about some of the unhealthy things about cemeteries. I'm learning not to be threatened when cultural structures appear discordant; Choosing rather, for example, to be fascinated by the mystery of a person's reaction to your jogging while they are grieving. Life is beautiful that way, in a way, showing us that it's not all about us. And, as you correctly observe sweet Leah, the dead are past caring what any of us decides is important.
Death is the greatest terror of mortals. It's the fear of nothingness that drives people into the arms of the massive patriarchal religions. These scary organisations promise an eternal blissful afterlife -- as long as you follow their religious rules.
Some of us who feel that death is a great transition -- of bodily our atoms and molecules into other forms of energy and matter -- are pretty comfortable with our eventual exit.
Cemeteries are beautiful places to muse on our mortality and memories.
Love your walkabout and your own musings :)
Thanks Frank. So kind as always.
Looking forward to your interview with Clover. And I too would have felt very sad if my mum - same age - had said only a few more years. But she’d probably be right
The funny thing is he didn’t mean it in a mortality sense but more like, “time to sell the boat and book us a trip to Australia” kind of way. He laughed when he saw the video!
Your dad sounds lovely. But I relate to that gut punch we feel with even the idea that a parent - a particular parent I should add - will die. I feel that about my mum.
it is disrespectful.
A sacred place, hallowed ground, for people of varying religions.
Walking is one thing but using it as an outdoor track is another.
I’m sorry Paul. I understand what you mean. I think it’s very, very complicated, the question of what we should/ought to use these spaces for. In the Middle Ages cemeteries were commonly used as community gathering spaces and picnic grounds in England — and there was a lot more green space everywhere back then. Our relationship and rituals in dealing with mortality and the dead change over time. We are in a confused period perhaps.
I like you.
I like you back
Over here in Italy, the cemeteries use much less real estate, so generations of the dead are entombed in family crypts. These are places to go to delight in architecture and human-made landscapes which are a wonderful distraction from the contemplation of mortality. These are the necropoli - cities of the dead where history is layered in a way that suggests a microcosm of the world beyond their walls. They are a busy space-time that evokes life. They suggest also the possibility that the gathered ghosts enjoy midnight bacchanals, a wine-fed abandonment of the grave morals of the living.
That is exactly what I meant. And it is painful and hard and also strange and constantly surprising. Dead is a very hard word.