What is it that death compels within us that we cannot deny it throughout our everyday life? We don't risk life and limb to simply BE in existence. Or do we? Statistics will tell us that sitting in our own home is a dangerous place to be that could take our lives. Placement of our lives seemingly depends on where we live them. To most a life spent indoors is a servitude of punishment, to others the prospect of life on the outside is a fear best not explored.
So in how we all seek meaning and value to our 'lives' are we placing a price upon our own heads or are we making a estimate for how much our death is worth? Does thy existence in 'reality' outweigh its exit from it? Da Vinci is quoted to have said, “While I thought that I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die.” Is this true for every life?
I want to question the value you put on death. Ultimately we choose to ignore out own death, so when we face with the prospect of it we choose to think of the 'other' whoever that 'other' may be, it is a escape from the reality of our own selfless death. If I was to make you choose between one person's death and the other's? what would waver your choice? Their importance to yourself? Their social standing? Their responsibilities as a individual? What makes one's life more important than the others? More importantly, what if you had no choice? Now that is a scary question is it not?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment