Recall the Joy Killer

"أذكروا هادم اللذات"

It would be stupid for me to hide the fact that I'm yearning to spend some time in a grave, my grave. I confided a close friend with this secret recently, only not to keep it within me and grow into becoming a burden. Her support was a relief, she understood and offered some help. I felt I was not alone.

Am I that emotionally disturbed to ask for such a simple thing? Am I this paranoid to want to lay down in a grave? Am I the type of people that are so dysfunctional that they only succeed at burying themselves? No, no and a no. I'm a fully functioning, fully productive human being who constantly has the feeling of wanting to lay down for as long as possible, 6 feet down, with the company of someone close, waiting at the edge in case something happened.

It might be the state of mind I always find myself at, the type of psychological state that constantly asks me to remember death.

A teacher threw a poll at a class of 10 yr olds, asked "What is the main reason for death?". Most students elaborated on the topics resulting in death and came up with the usual: Cancer, smoking, car accident, etc.. But there was this one student that answered with "Life".

The first and most important reason for death, is life, and he was right. Death is the most natural outcome of being alive. There is no more festive occasion than passing away. There is no better celebration than closing one's eyes and saying farewell.

I giggle sometimes whenever I think of my community's reaction to death. Absurd isn't it?

I still remember that morning when my cousin came over in a huge haste to my aunt's house, where I had spent the night before, to inform us of something very bad news, her blackened face tells. Found out later on it was my uncle who passed away, my mom's brother. I remember spending the first day at the family's house, where my uncle's body was waiting to be buried. I still remember to this day being the only one with no tears in their eyes. Everyone was weeping, my grandma was even slapping her face and body, grieving her deceased son. I stood there amidst all, watching all these people in black and white, and started wondering why they were doing so and feeling the way they did. I then turned my head towards the body's face, and there it was: He was smiling like never before. His slightly wrinkly face was at ease, as I have always known him in his life; no tension that brought his eyebrows together, no stress that deformed his pitch-black mustaches.

We were sent later on to my father's family's house, and were strictly forbidden, especially me, to go back to that house. Little did they know, nothing could stop a curious 9 yr-old boy from doing what he has in plan. I found an excuse and went out. Although that was my first time walking in that area, I actually managed to go back and forth to where we were at. But I couldn't get any close, fearing someone might see me. However, I managed to sneak a peek and saw people of all sorts, all wearing black (?!) were gathered on that balcony. It seemed to me that having someone die, is basically an occasion for the whole family to gather in one place for some time after their egos have taken their toll on putting them apart, even though those who were fighting try to pick their mourning schedules to avoid meeting there. An occasion for people to try out that black expensive dress/suit they bought a while ago. An occasion to show off with cars and possessions. A chance to match couples, finding a bride for that woman's son in the Gulf, or looking for a stud for this woman's 20 yr-old gal. Hypocrisy at its best.

Meh, I'm getting off topic. My uncle was smiling, just like his mom, my grandma, who passed away 6 years later. I witnessed both, with my bare eyes, and no one could change the striking fact that they were both smiling when they passed away. Why grief then? Why not celebrate and dance?

Ever thought of what would happen if you passed away tomorrow? The below are two movies that I think are the breakthrough in such topics.

- Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

- Flatliners

And finally, here's an excerpt of a story I stumbled on a few minutes ago. Google translate will help those who never had falafel:

 يروى أن أعرابياً كان يسير على جمل له، فخرّ الجمل ميتاً، فنزل الأعرابي عنه، وجعل يطوف به ويتفكر فيه، ويقول:
ما لك لا تقوم؟

مالك لا تنبعث؟

!هذه أعضاؤك كاملة

!وجوارحك سالمة

ما شأنك ؟

ما الذي كان يحملك ؟

ما الذي صرعك ؟

ما الذي عن الحركة منعك ؟

..ثم تركه وانصرف متعجباً من أمره، متفكراً في شأنه

We haven't changed a bit, did we?