An Illusory Intertwingling of Reason and Response

Musings: “Cogitations of an Addled Mind,” one might call it, or “Mr. Toad’s Adventure,” for that matter. Most of what I write stems from a long brooding process, and here I present to you, raw and untamed, the results. (Some musings are on a devotional note, and others are seasonally-oriented.)

Tafel :: musings

Friday, February 08, 2008

Life Is Pleasing to the Touch

Life has always overshadowed the Shadow of Death:

I've never really respected Death. I don't mean merely "invincible youth", either: I've simply been too alive for the idea of death to seem anything but vaguely amusing.

reality to its unseen, point to its counter,

The reason I say it's not merely "invincible youth" is that it's not merely my own death I find absurd. The death of anyone — friend, loved one, stranger — seems a phantastic concept: one that doesn't bear cogitation simply from sheer farcity.

pleasing to the touch, making me chuckle.

I've never cried at a funeral.

Death has always made me laugh a bit:

Not out of callousness, death just never had a hold on my imagination. Life has always been too real for Death to be worth consideration. And besides, I've always believed — even before reason confirmed it — that the body is not wherein is Life.

not an uncomprehending, uncomfortable giggle,

I've never cried at a funeral.

I tried to cry at my grandpa's funeral. I really did. I was nine years old, and I knew that's what you were supposed to do. It didn't work.

but a chuckle, patting a child on the head,

When a childhood friend committed suicide, I tried to cry. But even at the funeral, I couldn't see sorrow in the situation. Foolishness, yes. Waste, of course. But sorrow? It didn't work.

telling him to show his mother.

I've never cried at a funeral. Life distracts me. It's pleasing to the touch.