Remusings

Last night, I had a dream, in which death was not what it seems. I saw a world in which the deceased, instead of diminishing completely at death, appeared to remain in some form within this reality plane. They could be seen, as they had been until the moment of death itself. They could be spoken to and heard, even touched and held, as if they had never left. Yet, this state of post-death non-being, this abstracted state of in-between, lasted only some time, maybe a few days or a week at most. After which, the deceased slowly faded away, not to be seen, heard or touched again.  I received no indication, in my dream, as to the exact nature of what this phenomenon means. Was it that the deceased actually remained on earth, even in a physical form, for just a little longer? Or was it more likely that it was an edifice of their former being, created out of their memories that dwelled in the collective minds of those who knew them? Were these memories somehow ossified into existence, as ...

Breathing - the act of taking air in and out of our bodies - is an activity intrinsically tied to being alive, yet most of us live with little conscious awareness of its existence on a daily basis. The reality of being alive can be defined by the act of breathing itself. Breathing in and out in a steady rhythm signifies that there is life within a body. When one places the finger under the nostrils of a corpse, one is seeking the feel of the breath as the telltale sign of the presence of life. However, despite the vital role of the breath in the phenomenon of life, one can feasibly spend an entire lifetime without ever noticing that one is breathing. In lives lived such, if ever this awareness does arise, it might only be when when one finds oneself gasping for breath, after a hard workout or maybe in the unfortunate situation when one is drowning underwater. In the absence of breath, breath is quickly recognized as the most important necessity for life. The human body is an orch...

"Furniture helps to be in presence", she said, finally looking away from the white chair that stood alongside our white dining table. It was one in a set of four chairs, that stood on the longer sides of the rectangular table. Our second story downtown apartment was meticulously color coordinated thanks to her. And so, all four chairs had a bright red cushion on them, matching the bright red sofa that stood against the perpendicular wall. The whites and reds of both were constantly bleeding into each other, as boisterous mirrored reflections in constant playful competition. At the same time, on the other side of the room, the teal cushions on the pair of wooden armchairs perfectly reflected the teal on the background of Van Gogh's "Apricot Blossom", that hung on the wall over them. Additionally, all the hues and shades of the entire room were brought into congruence into the center of the room, focused onto the white and blue carpet that lay thinly across the o...

As the coronavirus spreads across the planet at ferocious speed, we are reminded once again of an uncomfortable truth that most of us prefer to ignore - the human species is intricately and inescapably tied to the biological domain of the planet. The fact that we were somehow able to wrench ourselves out of the food chain and no longer be lion food, was a defining moment of victory for the species indeed. However, over time this existential accolade also seemed to propagate the idea that we had managed to escape nature altogether. While we can celebrate that we have built shelters to protect ourselves from the forces of nature, devised agricultural methods to produce food throughout the year, created medicines and treatments to live longer than ever before, the truth still remains that in the face of hurricanes, famines and pandemics, we are as helpless as we always were to the whims of nature. It takes such extreme reminders from nature in the form of existential spankings, for the ...

The descent into dystopia often happens in deafening silence. It happens by normalizing the absurd, by justifying the unjustifiable. It happens through the silent strangling of morality, the whitewashing of lies, and the unnoticed yet violent evanescence of truth. At first, the darkness creeps only as a grey shadow; unthreatening, almost charming, like nostalgia on a cloudy day. In moments of fleeting clarity, those guarding the light can sometimes notice the gaping abyss that lies beyond. Some may even try to speak, but only to have their whispered words dissolve into the wind. And those who already lived with the shadow in their hearts, notice nothing, as they are cradled softly into the sordid embrace of the night.