Death

-
"No man can have a peaceful life who thinks too much about lengthening it, or believes that living through many consulships is a great blessing.

Rehearse this thought every day: that you may be able to depart from life contentedly; for many men clutch and cling to life, even as those who are carried down a rushing stream clutch and cling to briars and sharp rocks.

Most men ebb and flow in wretchedness between the fear of death and the hardships of life; they are unwilling to live, and yet they do not know how to die.

For this reason, make life as a whole agreeable to yourself by banishing all worry about it." (Seneca, Letter 4 "On The Terrors of Death")

Here is one truth concerning death: it arrives. 
Unexpectedly for the most part, but death arrives. 

And what happens once death arrives? We seem to have an inkling of life, but what of death? If we exhaust our days wasting life (a kind of un-living) then dread and despair should be expected, for no amount of good can ever balance any evil we've committed. Death is both common and unique to everyone, so a kind of unease might be expected--we know about living and have never died before. It's the only thing in life we will ever do on our own.

But must there be terror concerning death?

What if death "passes away"? What if it were possible for death to come and then go, taking all it's terrors with it? Does there exist the chance that death could continue on its way? There does. The sting of death has been removed by one who both died and lived again. Of all the great minds in the world (Seneca included), all remain in their graves, except for One who died thousands of years ago and lives to this day, offering life for any who will have it. 

Banish all worry about death and make life agreeable while you yet live. 

Just don't waste your life on things that don't matter. 
Download this free book.

Please.



Popular posts from this blog

“And so, about this tomb of mine . . . “

-
Image
  “VANITY, saith the preacher, vanity!  Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back?  Nephews—sons mine … ah God, I know not! Well—  She, men would have to be your mother once,  Old Gandolf envied me, so fair she was!  What’s done is done, and she is dead beside,  Dead long ago, and I am Bishop since,  And as she died so must we die ourselves,  And thence ye may perceive the world’s a dream.  Life, how and what is it?  As here I lie In this state-chamber, dying by degrees,  Hours and long hours in the dead night,  I ask “Do I live, am I dead?”  Peace, peace seems all.  Saint Praxed’s ever was the church for peace;  And so, about this tomb of mine.  I fought With tooth and nail to save my niche, ye know:  —Old Gandolf cozened me, despite my care;  Shrewd was that snatch from out the corner  South He graced his carrion with,  God curse the same!  Yet still my niche is not so cramped...
Read more

The Island-Fish

-
Image
  “O ye passengers, whom may God preserve! come up quickly in to the ship, hasten to embark, and leave your merchandise, and flee with your lives, and save yourselves from destruction; for this apparent island, upon which ye are, is not really an island, but it is a great fish that hath become stationary in the midst of the sea, and the sand hath accumulated upon it, so that it hath become like an island, and trees have grown upon it since times of old; and when ye lighted the fire upon it, the fish felt the heat, and put itself in motion, and now it will descend with you into the sea, and ye will all be drowned: then seek for yourselves escape before destruction, and leave the merchandise.—The passengers, therefore, hearing the words of the master of the ship, hastened to go up into the vessel, leaving the merchandise, and their other goods, and their copper cooking-pots, and their fire-pots; and some reached the ship, and others reached it not. The island had moved, and descended...
Read more