Are you afraid to die?

Strange how some people are scared to live fully because of death and some it works the other way round too they are scared to die, because of life.

Someone I was just listening to just said, I think you are the happiest when you are not thinking about attaining happiness.

Maybe it's a bit like the championship rounds. Who wants to go through life protecting a lead if you've done very well and had big success. Just waiting on the final bell to end it.

If we think of death as a consequence to action then we might as well stay in bed.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Ghost

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Dia bando

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Andre

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Dia bando

For fuck sake you lot , don't be depressed I'm dealing with death everyday, and guess what I don't
think about it. I find it the best way to be.! If I was to think about it, probable it would drive me mad
I here some tragic stories and I have to get on with it.

---

Same as car bodies. Dealers deal with it.;)

---

Doom and gloom, some of theses lot are counting the days Andre, living in dread ;D what if, how or
when !. They do seem to be thinking to much, were all doomed.;D:deadnew:

---

Business must be slow @Dia bando , if you are try to drum up some on a boxing forum.

:ghost:

---

As a mater of fact, business is slow there don't seem to be many takers.;D

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Dia bando

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Ghost

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Dia bando

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Andre

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Dia bando

For fuck sake you lot , don't be depressed I'm dealing with death everyday, and guess what I don't
think about it. I find it the best way to be.! If I was to think about it, probable it would drive me mad
I here some tragic stories and I have to get on with it.

---

Same as car bodies. Dealers deal with it.;)

---

Doom and gloom, some of theses lot are counting the days Andre, living in dread ;D what if, how or
when !. They do seem to be thinking to much, were all doomed.;D:deadnew:

---

Business must be slow @Dia bando , if you are try to drum up some on a boxing forum.

:ghost:

---

As a mater of fact, business is slow there don't seem to be many takers.;D

---

Says the under taker

6 feet under
or burnt up in an urn
we will be broken asunder
and be buried or be burned
Dia Bando shovels 'em in
them corpses in the flames--
he threw so many motherfuckers ın so far
he cannot remember their names.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by brocktonblockbust

6 feet under
or burnt up in an urn
we will be broken asunder
and be buried or be burned
Dia Bando shovels 'em in
them corpses in the flames--
he threw so many motherfuckers ın so far
he cannot remember their names.

---

Brock :lol::deadnew:;D

This is one of my favorite works by a famous old school poet Robert Graves, born London 1895, it catches the shock and horror at the realization of lifes clock as it falls into reverse on him (so he mentally tries to turn it back) but it gently slides to a halt and ceases in his own time. I love it. Its so... Gothic and atmospheric. :D



DOWN


Down stairs a clock had chimed two O'clock only.
Then outside form the hen roost crowing came.
Why should the shift -wing call against the clock?
Three hours from dawn? Now shutters click and knock.
And he remembers a sad superstition.

Unfitting for the sick bed .... turn aside.
Distract, divide, ponder the simple tales
That puzzled childhood; riddles,turn them over-
half riddles, answerless,the more intense.
Lost bars of music tinkling with no sense
Recur, drowning, uneasy superstition.

Mouth open he was lying,this sick man,
And sinking all the while;how had he come
To sink? On better nights his dream went flying,
Dipping sailing the pasture of his sleep,
But now (since clock and cock) had sunk him down
Through mattress bed, floor, floors beneath,stairs ,cellars,
Through deep foundations of the manse,still sinking
Through unturned earth. How had he magicked space
With inadvertent motion or word uttered
Of too close-packed intelligence (such there are)
That he should penetrate with sliding ease
Dense earth,compound of ages,granite ribs
And groins? Consider: There was some word uttered,
Some abracadabra-then, like a stage ghost,
Funereally with weeping,down, drowned,lost!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Andre

This is one of my favorite works by a famous old school poet Robert Graves, born London 1895, it catches the shock and horror at the realization of lifes clock as it falls into reverse on him (so he mentally tries to turn it back) but it gently slides to a halt and ceases in his own time. I love it. Its so... Gothic and atmospheric. :D



DOWN


Down stairs a clock had chimed two O'clock only.
Then outside form the hen roost crowing came.
Why should the shift -wing call against the clock?
Three hours from dawn? Now shutters click and knock.
And he remembers a sad superstition.

Unfitting for the sick bed .... turn aside.
Distract, divide, ponder the simple tales
That puzzled childhood; riddles,turn them over-
half riddles, answerless,the more intense.
Lost bars of music tinkling with no sense
Recur, drowning, uneasy superstition.

Mouth open he was lying,this sick man,
And sinking all the while;how had he come
To sink? On better nights his dream went flying,
Dipping sailing the pasture of his sleep,
But now (since clock and cock) had sunk him down
Through mattress bed, floor, floors beneath,stairs ,cellars,
Through deep foundations of the manse,still sinking
Through unturned earth. How had he magicked space
With inadvertent motion or word uttered
Of too close-packed intelligence (such there are)
That he should penetrate with sliding ease
Dense earth,compound of ages,granite ribs
And groins? Consider: There was some word uttered,
Some abracadabra-then, like a stage ghost,
Funereally with weeping,down, drowned,lost!

---

these are the haunted solemn words and perturbances of a middle-aged man realizing all-too-strikingly his clear undeniable mortality, his limit life on earth, h,s com,ng, loom,ng dem,se as a creature. thıs ıs a hauntıong-ass poem Andre, a great post mate, a hauntıng I wıll thınk of some nıghts.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by brocktonblockbust

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Andre

This is one of my favorite works by a famous old school poet Robert Graves, born London 1895, it catches the shock and horror at the realization of lifes clock as it falls into reverse on him (so he mentally tries to turn it back) but it gently slides to a halt and ceases in his own time. I love it. Its so... Gothic and atmospheric. :D



DOWN


Down stairs a clock had chimed two O'clock only.
Then outside form the hen roost crowing came.
Why should the shift -wing call against the clock?
Three hours from dawn? Now shutters click and knock.
And he remembers a sad superstition.

Unfitting for the sick bed .... turn aside.
Distract, divide, ponder the simple tales
That puzzled childhood; riddles,turn them over-
half riddles, answerless,the more intense.
Lost bars of music tinkling with no sense
Recur, drowning, uneasy superstition.

Mouth open he was lying,this sick man,
And sinking all the while;how had he come
To sink? On better nights his dream went flying,
Dipping sailing the pasture of his sleep,
But now (since clock and cock) had sunk him down
Through mattress bed, floor, floors beneath,stairs ,cellars,
Through deep foundations of the manse,still sinking
Through unturned earth. How had he magicked space
With inadvertent motion or word uttered
Of too close-packed intelligence (such there are)
That he should penetrate with sliding ease
Dense earth,compound of ages,granite ribs
And groins? Consider: There was some word uttered,
Some abracadabra-then, like a stage ghost,
Funereally with weeping,down, drowned,lost!

---

these are the haunted solemn words and perturbances of a middle-aged man realizing all-too-strikingly his clear undeniable mortality, his limit life on earth, h,s com,ng, loom,ng dem,se as a creature. thıs ıs a hauntıong-ass poem Andre, a great post mate, a hauntıng I wıll thınk of some nıghts.

---

Excellent Brock, the word's have a deep meaning and I must say it make you think about your mortality.

All the birds kicked up one and half hours away from dawn here a month ago it was at 4am and wasnt getting light till 7 back then, it made me sit up and listen and think of this poem.

I thought you guys would like it. Its my favorite. He paints a surreal but very connected journey to the end, all built on 17th century superstition, religion and some raw fact,you can feel he was emotionally attached about it and felt it deep.

You're right Brock it is a haunting thought put this way.

Makes me imagine a darkened down middle class Georgian house with a few creaks n drafts and a black iron bed with springs and a shitty matress in a plain room with bare boards on the floor and a candle on a shelf and a bed pan under the bed and a tin cup for company, His Misses sleeping up the other end of the house keeping her distance from the unknown sickness all the normal things of the day, then that bastard rooster sences time is wavering for someone close and goes and sets the whole thing off.:cool:

Andre mate my frıend you couldnt have depıcted that scene any better for my taste of ıt. Perfectly depıcted there---and you get the desperate sense of the lonelıness caused by hıs wıfe beıng just a few extra meters away due to not wantıng to catch hıs sıckness---the few extra meters---whılst he ıs so sıck---when he really would need to hold her hand and be comforted---but she must stay well-enough away---adds to hıs lonelıness and hıs demise. jesus christ SAVE US ALL. WHERE İS GOD AND GOD CAN YOU PLEASE SAVE US ALL? GOD CAN YOU TELL US THAT ALL OUR IDEAS ABOUT YOU ARE NOT JUST FANTASIES AND WISHFUL THINKING? GOD PLEASE SAVE EVERY POOR INNOCENT LOST SOUL---WE DO NOT KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN AFTER OUR LİVES HERE GOD---WE ARE FILLED WITH FEAR GOD---CAN YOU SHOW US A SIGN GOD...CAN YOU GIVE US SOME HOPE GOD? WE ARE LOST! SAVE US!

Ha, we are swimming up the deeper end of the pool here mate ;D.

Heres how I see the human spirit...

Erupted from God and given Love and all that goes with it in total freedom, eternity and expansion.

Turned from it and went the opposite way compressing down into matter in search of light, searching the Yang for Yin, for more light where there is less love.

People look for love outside of themselves and look for God externally, its now a religious driven mistake too; there is no magic rescue ship when you are sailing away from home at the same speed as the rescue craft, your direction is yours as is your point of view change them seek love within. You are the rescue craft.

quıte a mındblowıng way to see ıt Andre. I lıke that---we are expandıng away from the eruptıon at the samwe speed as everythıng else...hmmmm....yes that ıs good
The part I struggle wıth ıs your versıon of I guess orıgınal sın--meaınıng at some poınt we chose the wrong path---as you say seekıng lıght where there ıs no love---why dıd we do that? why would we choose that? every sıngle one of us?

I live not for any sense of self gratification, but mainly because there are people I love. All too often I have spoken to my wife of my life prematurely ending and then I realise how awful I am to mention such things. My Mum less so, but you shouldn't die before your Mum. I am not afraid to die in the slightest, but would rather everyone else go peacefully and then me be on my way next. Some ridiculous suicide isn't very nice. I don't fear death, perhaps more than many I have sought it, but I am.

Death is nothing, this life is rather more. Philosophically I wish that were more so, but decent philosophers don't hoax.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by brocktonblockbust

quıte a mındblowıng way to see ıt Andre. I lıke that---we are expandıng away from the eruptıon at the samwe speed as everythıng else...hmmmm....yes that ıs good
The part I struggle wıth ıs your versıon of I guess orıgınal sın--meaınıng at some poınt we chose the wrong path---as you say seekıng lıght where there ıs no love---why dıd we do that? why would we choose that? every sıngle one of us?

---

There is no such thing as wrong in the large picture. It only exists in duality in comparison to. How much of your whole self would you risk for experience sake? Maybe you are a lot bigger than you know from this small point of view in this even smaller area of only one of the many universes. But some fight for separation even though we can be as One. A false identity built up in love of gain, material and wanting more (that is investing in death). Material gain is an illusion it has an end, energy is forever its indestructible yet changeable like seasons. If you are going to expand, what do you wish to expand into? You go where where your loves take you. Thats no punishment, thats total freedom with consequences. And the journey of a thousand miles starts with one step. Help them

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Andre

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by brocktonblockbust

quıte a mındblowıng way to see ıt Andre. I lıke that---we are expandıng away from the eruptıon at the samwe speed as everythıng else...hmmmm....yes that ıs good
The part I struggle wıth ıs your versıon of I guess orıgınal sın--meaınıng at some poınt we chose the wrong path---as you say seekıng lıght where there ıs no love---why dıd we do that? why would we choose that? every sıngle one of us?

---

There is no such thing as wrong in the large picture. It only exists in duality in comparison to. How much of your whole self would you risk for experience sake? Maybe you are a lot bigger than you know from this small point of view in this even smaller area of only one of the many universes. But some fight for separation even though we can be as One. A false identity built up in love of gain, material and wanting more (that is investing in death). Material gain is an illusion it has an end, energy is forever its indestructible yet changeable like seasons. If you are going to expand, what do you wish to expand into? You go where where your loves take you. Thats no punishment, thats total freedom with consequences. And the journey of a thousand miles starts with one step. Help them

---

reminds me what youre sayıng of the Rig Veda:

"Extinguished were the lights of men, when things unseen infected me."