Throwback: "Cheating Death with a Book"
A blast from the past with a Philosobites post from the original blog from 2022
(Another throwback post for this week. Enjoy this little reflection I wrote back in 2022 when the Philosobites blog looked a little different! Back to new writing next week!)
I’m afraid of death.
A bleak way to start my first real post, I know, but it’s the truth.
Just about any person can recount the moment in their life when the concept of death really, truly dawned on them, but the process of actually coming to terms with death is one that can take decades to fully grasp, and even then, may never fully be comprehended.
Among the tens of billions of human minds that lived through life on this planet, it goes without saying that humanity has devised an innumerable array of methods to make sense of the process of dying.
Some run from it, relying on the promise of an eternal afterlife, and as such, avoid the need to come to terms with inevitably ceasing to exist one day.
Some face it head on, accepting their fate, doing everything in their power to achieve the so-called “good life,” spoken of by countless philosophers.
From stoics to nihilists to theists, everyone has their unique answer, and I, personally, don’t think there is any harm in that.
To each their own, right?
My primary answer has always centred around the concern of legacy.
When I’m gone, what will I leave behind? A father, a teacher, an all-around good person… We all have our goals.
For as long as I’ve personally wrestled with that question, the answer has looked like a book, or at least some sort of collection of thoughts and ideas.
Yet, for whatever reason, writing much of anything with any degree of sincerity behind it has been a terrifying idea for most of my life.
To pass away and leave nothing but words on a page to plead my case as to why I’m worth remembering to those I leave behind is rather daunting. There is so much that I would want to communicate, but at the same time, it is the knowledge of the natural time constraint that we all share that worries me.
Will I be able to fit all I want to say into one work?
Is something like that even realistic?
Where does this pressure to create one comprehensive piece of work that sums up all of who I am come from?
Pile all of this on with the addition of the crippling imposter syndrome that leads someone like me to feel as though they haven’t learned enough, lived enough, or read enough to even begin thinking about putting any of it down on paper, and the idea of beginning to create a legacy starts to feel at best like an impossibility.
All that being said, going into any written piece of work hoping for it to be one’s magnum opus will likely never be a strategy that encourages the writing spirit.
Experts in just about any field will start to feel the pressure when the stakes are that high.
In any case, this is likely just the beginning of a battle that I’ll find myself struggling with for quite some time to come, but one thing has recently become clear — letting one’s own insecurities about one’s writing, knowledge, or life experience be the obstacle that delays the beginning of one’s journey with self-discovery and introspection is not the answer.
Let’s cut ourselves some slack, call it a rough draft, and create.
I’ll leave you here with a few journaling prompts for those who want to do a bit of guided thinking around this topic:
Are there particular stories, lessons, or messages you feel compelled to share?
Write about the obstacles that have prevented you from starting a creative project. How can you address these obstacles?
Reflect on a time when you completed a project or task despite feeling it wasn’t perfect. What was the outcome?
If you have any thoughts on the topic and have the time to respond, the comments and replies are always open. I’d love to hear your thoughts!
Or if you know anyone who would enjoy this post or the newsletter in general, send it their way. I’d be eternally grateful.
For now, have a great rest of the week. Talk soon!
I’ve been worrying about death since I was a little kid, and thought a lot about it. Somehow it has also been close and normal to me, since one of my parents work in palliative care. Last winter I sat by a friend as she died. It is both profound and quiet at the same time. But having a frame and a language for it really helps, especially when since it’s so difficult to talk about
What if life and death are the same eternal ongoing? Then being afraid of death means to be afraid of life.
Does the feeling of pressure to produce a legacy come from that? Is it even possible not to create a legacy? Who is the judge on that.
I feel there is (also) an element of invitation, a suction even, that yearns to be filled with conscious creation, crystallized from your life situation. And if it is strong enough it will stay in the universe eternally and can be experienced through some form of anchor. Like a song, a poem, a painting. Anywhere, anytime.
When I use the anchor well I can experience some of your experience, your passage, your vivid continuous arrival in the eternal final dance with death, errrrr, life.
https://panzerknacker.substack.com/p/le-passage-6be