I can know all sorts of general truths about death and still fail to understand what it means that I shall die. Again, objective facts and abstract theories are one thing; however, what those facts and theories personally mean to me are
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I think that I have a handle on death. But do I? I may have a handle on death, but I seriously doubt that I have a handle on suffering. I do have an abstract concept of suffering, but real suffering is existential suffering. It cannot be experienced outside of the suffering, ala The Death of Ivan Illych.
“MAN, GIFTED ABOVE HIS KIN Terrible in its beauty You have made, my God, this clawed, mawed world where even plants reach out with hooks and gape for prey. Bright, singing wings Bear beaks that snap in air, or fold to pounce and tear the cringing flesh below. One thousand fathoms down, cold in its dark domain, life stalks itself to feed on succulence of pain. Sucking the tender teat, Toothless and untaloned, man, gifted above his kin, refines the shape of fangs and rends the web of life with many-weaponed hand”
― I Walk Toward the Sound of My Days: Poems of John Allen Adams
― I Walk Toward the Sound of My Days: Poems of John Allen Adams
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