Should we be really scared of death? are you?
OxyMoronicMe said:I am, everyday. I still have lots of reason to live for, my family... my kids specially. Came close to dying trice already and I realized... the exact moment that you thought you are about to die is the most frightening.
That must have been a harrowing experience. I thought of death many times especially when depressed. But I am a coward so never went through with anything. Anyway, pain in the process of dying scares me...death itself is inevitable.
That must have been a harrowing experience. I thought of death many times especially when depressed. But I am a coward so never went through with anything. Anyway, pain in the process of dying scares me...death itself is inevitable.
I don't think people should be afraid of death because it is a natural thing. Humans are surrounded by death all the time. We are told at a very young age that we are going to die so I believe one should live their life happily and be ok with the fact that one day you will also die. The memory of you will live on.
Death to me is just another chapter in our evolutionary process...
however, of course the thought of how one dies is scary.
If dying in your sleep is anything like a sleep paralysis episode,
be afraid be very afraid... Me myself I feel that the older I get, wisdom and clarity sets in.
I suppose in the end, dying alone is the scariest and saddest way to go...
however, of course the thought of how one dies is scary.
If dying in your sleep is anything like a sleep paralysis episode,
be afraid be very afraid... Me myself I feel that the older I get, wisdom and clarity sets in.
I suppose in the end, dying alone is the scariest and saddest way to go...
I think the fear of death is actually the fear of irrelevance and all but the young and any who already feel irrelevant have some degree of fear of having lived a mostly meaningless life as it is our nature to attach meaning to nearly everything, most especially ourselves.
It's not dying that scares me, it's the thought that i will be no more, i just can't get my head around that concept and the more i think about it, the less sense it makes to me. i did not come from nothing and so i cannot become nothing, is my general reasoning.
We all waste time in one way or another, so since death has happened to so many, and all of us alive at this moment will die whether we like it or not, celebrate it or fear it. So we should make better use of the time we have.
peace.
peace.
Although I'm young, I know I'm going to die. But isn't death the thing that keeps us going? If we lived forever, what would be the point of getting out of bed? We would always have tomorrow. But I want to live my life and make some accomplishment for mankind before I die; that's the goal.
Anonymous
I'm not sure if this is against site rules, however I'm going to paste a poem by the poet John Donne from... I think maybe early 17th century. I think it is very educational and thought provoking concerning the concept of death, if you are able to interpret its metaphysical metaphors. If you guys have questions about it, I'd be happy to try and answer them.
''Death, Be not Proud'' - John Donne from his Holy Sonnets.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
''Death, Be not Proud'' - John Donne from his Holy Sonnets.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
