The Fear of Death

The flagship entry in this blog, shown above, discussed the accumulation of knowledge in my brain and the inability to get myself to apply the practical aspects of that knowledge, which represent one of the single greatest disappointments of my life. Ultimately, I discovered that a large part of this huge shortcoming was due to long-term, undiagnosed illness, whose 'cure' in effect is discussed below. But now in my fifties, like so many others I feel that a big chunk of life has slipped by, without my achieving so many things I had wanted to.

In the book Night to Lisbon, author Pascal Mercier writes,

“Is it ultimately a question of self-image, the determining idea one has made for oneself of what one has to have accomplished and experienced so that one can approve of the life one has lived? If this is the case, the fear of death might be described as the fear of not being able to become whom one had planned to be. Fear of death as fear of the unfulfilled then lay - it seems - completely in my hand, for it is I who draws the image of my own life as it was to be fulfilled. . . . If the certainty befalls us that it will never be achieved, this wholeness, we suddenly don't know how to live the time that can no longer be part of a whole life."

This resonated with me. At times I feel I was sleepwalking through most of my 30s and 40s, the years that should have been the prime years of my life in many ways--having matured, but still young, with many years ahead to accomplish the goals I had made for my life. And not so much 'goals' per se, but all the things I could see myself doing in my mind's eye, the things that I told myself were so doable. Now, although I realize I still have many years left, I feel a deep sense of disappointment that I did not become the person I could have been.

I'm ashamed to say that at times I let the sheer mathematical aspect of aging get to me. I'm 55 now. In ten years I'll be nearing retirement, and somehow I do view that as a dividing line of sorts, a point at which many unfulfilled ideals must be left behind, because the body or mind are no longer able, and the most productive years have passed, leaving just a few precious years to simply enjoy life as much as I can. So mentally, I give myself 10 years to get an awful lot of things done, before I reach the 'point of no return'. Then I wallow in that for just one minute more, realizing that I remember ten years ago like it was last week, which creates the horrifying realization that next week I will be 65.

This coming week had better be one productive week.

I have found a way to comfort myself about the disappointment over the opportunities past that I no longer have. But that will only take me so far, I realize, because I know myself. If I die someday without having accomplished the few things that I still want to do, I will experience a kind of disappointment I'd rather not face. So, as Pascal says, I fear death in this way--I fear what will happen just before, in my mind, and quite apart from the manner of my death.

This is not the greatest motivation to have in life, but it is a help to me. I feel a sense of urgency, now that my health is better, to simply get things done. At this point I'm still in repair mode--getting my house and life in order, so that I can get on with the things I want to accomplish. But soon I hope to start moving forward, and I'll take you with me, if you like!

Stick around.