Everyone knows what it's like to be dead

Everyone knows what it's like to be dead
'cause everyone knows what's in like when in bed,
when not even dreams come between you and rest,
when each conscious thought is an unwelcome guest.

We've opened our eyes after countless eons
thanks to the stars that fill skies by the billions
and also our forebears who have sown their seeds
and passed on to us all the fruits of their deeds.

Our time may be short, the day may be fleeting
- it need not be forever to have meaning.
And going to sleep isn't something to dread
for everyone knows what it's like to be dead.

Reflecting on the brevity of life and the frivolousness of nature. Apparently, we have spent and will continue to spend billions of years being dead.

*Also posted in my DeviantArt account. 

Afterlife

I find it amusing how people who believe in an afterlife seriously believe in the existence of hell and are terribly afraid of making the fatal mistake that would send them to that damned place, and yet they always assume that their departed loved ones automatically go to heaven and are now looking down on them. At least that was what I was told as a kid - that people go to heaven when they die, no exceptions. I used to be creeped out thinking how my great-grandmother and great-grandfather can and do see my every move (even when I hide under a table, or a blanket, or when I turn off the lights). Creepy, but that's what an omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent god supposedly does, and he allegedly listens to our thoughts too, though I don't see the point of constant monitoring when you already know what's going to happen.

Though I'm now convinced that there isn't an afterlife, I still go to the cemetery, usually on or soon after All Saints' Day, when faithful Filipinos flock to the graves of their deceased friends and relatives (a surreal blend of Catholicism and ancestor worship), but I do it mainly to make sure that my relatives' graves aren't being desecrated (I once caught people placing objects over my great-grandfather's grave marker). Call it sentimentality, but even when I am aware that dead people are not even capable of minding what goes on at their burial sites, I am squeamish about vandalizing gravestones and other memorials. We were all brought into this world without our consent, and the least we could do for everyone is to is give them the right to leave it in peace and with dignity. And graves are part of the send-off that we give to the departed. Whatever way they leave, they were, after all, part of our lives, part of our world.

I want to spare my family from stressful trips to the graveyard, so I am seriously considering alternatives to burial such as cremation, aquamation, even donating my body to science. It pays to plan ahead, before the loss of consciousness and the powerlessness that comes with non-existence sets in. Whatever way this body gives up its autonomy and ultimately returns its raw materials to the environment, it comforts me to think that it would make way for future generations to experience the universe and all its majesty (because as far as we know, the environment can only sustain a limited number of people). To be memorialized is a nice bonus and is probably the closest we would ever get to immortality. The irony is that we wouldn't even be aware of it as it happens.

Thank you, Neil Armstrong

The world mourns Neil Armstrong, one of those brave souls who dared to venture into what was then unknown, just so the rest of us can know what lies out there. May those footprints on the surface of the moon continue to inspire future generations of scientists, thinkers, and explorers.

We might never get to see humanity conquer even our tiny solar system during our lifetimes, but that doesn't make this past and present century's achievements any less amazing, or less significant. It is through these small steps that we shall continue to push our limits.

Neil Armstrong was so much more than an American hero. He helped achieve that one giant leap for all of earthly life. To him, and the rest of the men and women, as well as the non-humans, involved in past and present space programs, we are eternally grateful.

Decay

A single gray hair at age twenty three
makes me wonder how long would it be
before the rest of my head turns gray
without a single ebony stray.
Is it supposed to be a warning,
a sign that I am slowly burning?
Would I soon find myself all ashen,
mere dust being blown into heaven?

I found a single gray hair on my head recently, and it led me to imagine that when the time comes when one can't get any grayer, that's the part where one crumbles to dust, like the body's all burned out. I suppose that, to some degree, everyone has a fear of "burning out" and just turning into nothing, however inevitable it may be.

*Also posted in my DeviantArt account.