silkandwind (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} silkandwind) wrote,@ 2004-12-31 01:05:00 |
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The tsunami strangely makes me happy. That for once humans arent the ones taking lives. It restores my faith in Nature. We've been denying the fact that nature rules us, we do not rule it. And it is sad that 100,000 people died, but just imagine what a beautiful death it was. To just be swept out to sea in a fit of fright and helplessness? Only to be smothered with a deafening crush of water and peace? Bare arms raised over your head quickly slipping into a frigid abyss, skin tingling with tiny air bubbles? It's always been my dream to drown or be swept out to sea, so perhaps I am a bit jealous. I love the fact that Nature can kill us. It keeps us honest. Afraid. Humble.
We're all just envious of Nature's power.
And thats why we are upset.
Overpoweringly Monstrous. Fatally Beautiful.
Someone got mad at this post. Because of the air bubbles. I responded:
This is coming from someone who is not afraid to die. I don't perceive death as a tragic occurrence, as paradoxical as it may sound.
Our death is the pinnacle of our existence.
I admit that it is easy to toss aside the feelings of 100,000s when you cannot see them, it is easy to be apathetically oversensitive.
But those tingling bubbles are real, as are the arm hairs they molest. And it is they who have left us with this reality. Those thousands will never feel it again, and all we can do is sit here and wait. Wait for our turn.
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I should have said:
How do you know that death is not beautiful? That the last sensations of life are the most intimate? I imagine a child floating, one shoe dangling by a shoelace wrapped around his ankle. His eyes forcefully closed by the impounding waves. His arms raised over his head, sinking deeper and deeper. A red and white striped shirt hovering around his belly button, waving like an American flag on a breezy summer Chicago afternoon. The tingling bubbles are gone now. He is gone. Sensations no longer belong to his body, but to another realm. One wear the air pets your lungs like a fur coat, and chocolate smells like a mother's hug. Things we cannot imagine. For there are limits to us. We are bound in a world of 5 senses and simple organs.
And for a few moments those organs purely experienced the magic of the waves. Ribs were smashed with delicate indecency and futile skulls were smashed against the rocky ocean coast. Imagine one sensation, one feeling. So intense and pure it kills you.
This is beauty.
You are only frightened because you have nothing to compare it to. Your only pain and sensations exist is a realm surrounded by pain and sensations. These are not special to you. You dread the ground while high up. You fear the ocean when you only have one breath. It is only when you have nothing that it all means something to you.
An overdose brings a swelling pain to the stomache only appreciated by the one who swallowed the pills.
A slit to the wrist slices a seering senstation only felt by the one with the razor.
You do not know. You are not aware of the beauty in the last moments. Whether they be of pain or bliss.
We're all just envious of Nature's power.
And thats why we are upset.
Overpoweringly Monstrous. Fatally Beautiful.
Someone got mad at this post. Because of the air bubbles. I responded:
This is coming from someone who is not afraid to die. I don't perceive death as a tragic occurrence, as paradoxical as it may sound.
Our death is the pinnacle of our existence.
I admit that it is easy to toss aside the feelings of 100,000s when you cannot see them, it is easy to be apathetically oversensitive.
But those tingling bubbles are real, as are the arm hairs they molest. And it is they who have left us with this reality. Those thousands will never feel it again, and all we can do is sit here and wait. Wait for our turn.
------------------------------------
I should have said:
How do you know that death is not beautiful? That the last sensations of life are the most intimate? I imagine a child floating, one shoe dangling by a shoelace wrapped around his ankle. His eyes forcefully closed by the impounding waves. His arms raised over his head, sinking deeper and deeper. A red and white striped shirt hovering around his belly button, waving like an American flag on a breezy summer Chicago afternoon. The tingling bubbles are gone now. He is gone. Sensations no longer belong to his body, but to another realm. One wear the air pets your lungs like a fur coat, and chocolate smells like a mother's hug. Things we cannot imagine. For there are limits to us. We are bound in a world of 5 senses and simple organs.
And for a few moments those organs purely experienced the magic of the waves. Ribs were smashed with delicate indecency and futile skulls were smashed against the rocky ocean coast. Imagine one sensation, one feeling. So intense and pure it kills you.
This is beauty.
You are only frightened because you have nothing to compare it to. Your only pain and sensations exist is a realm surrounded by pain and sensations. These are not special to you. You dread the ground while high up. You fear the ocean when you only have one breath. It is only when you have nothing that it all means something to you.
An overdose brings a swelling pain to the stomache only appreciated by the one who swallowed the pills.
A slit to the wrist slices a seering senstation only felt by the one with the razor.
You do not know. You are not aware of the beauty in the last moments. Whether they be of pain or bliss.
