paralysis, inaction, and needless things

a nation of people shuffling along backwards is a strange sight to behold. they are moving forward, for time only flows one direction, but they are facing backwards. this is more of an observation than an indictment, however, for it takes uncommon valor to turn and face forward. facing forward is not just facing the unknown, it is facing the unknowable. life only acquires meaning retroactively. no wonder it seems so much more natural and comfortable to live life forwards yet understand it backwards.

but natural and comfortable vanish in the face of terror. and what do you suppose lurks in the shadows of the final moments of our lives? we have spent the entirety of our lives facing backwards, distracted from the impending unknowable. and once we feel our feet on the edge of that abyss, once we know with certainty that we are about to tumble head-first into that unknown... helpless, hopeless, and full of regret – our last moments must undoubtedly be the worst.

it is no small wonder that we have exiled death from our sight, from our senses and sensibilities. the most natural outcome in the world, the complement to life and indeed that which gives life meaning, and we have made it the nightmarish stalker, the tragic reproachful injustice, the enemy. the injustice, of course, has been committed by ourselves against ourselves. for, in demonizing death and banishing it from our sight, in denaturalizing it, we have bred a nation of cowards.

in order to keep death incarcerated within the periphery we must continually manufacture value where there is none and indulge in ever more potent forms of distraction. when we have imputed the highest value into the trinkets that we surround ourselves with, we must protect them. yet, no matter our skill in acquiring plastic treasures, we are never satiated. so, we must insure our ability to acquire more. and when we numb ourselves with distractions, we must insure that these opiates will flow uninterrupted. death, having been successfully exiled, is just a curious fate that befalls others, it has lost its capacity to induce night sweats or insomnia. the people of this nation, the automatons ambulating about in perpetual reverse, instead tremble in fear at mild discomfort.

and now, you paraplegics who have taken offense at my assessment, ask yourselves what you would be willing to throw your job into jeopardy for? your car? your cellphone?

what then of the question of life? what would you die for? (and upon coming to an answer, any answer, flay yourselves. for you enjoy the unfortunate luxury of knowing that no one will ever demand it of you.)