Art and the philosophy of life

Posts tagged ‘death’

Okay, so…

Terracotta Army statue

These terracotta figures were made to Emperor Quin Shi Huang in the next world.  They were buried with him and, according to the belief of their culture, they would be there when he needed them.  But we have unearthed them and removed them, as we do with everything we find and want for ourselves, using science, art, greed, or archeology as an excuse to basically take what we want.

We know absolutely NOTHING AT ALL about happens after we die.  So, here’s the thing…what if a person’s spirit/afterlife is effected by taking away the things he believed in when he was alive?  What if the statues, imbued with magic, or belief, actually DID protect the Emperor in the afterlife.  What if, when people decide to did up those who were buried with ritual that was meaningful to all involved, we break a bond that ties the person to life on the other side.  We can’t know that isn’t possible.

Humans never seem think about anyone but themselves.  Instead of being buried where they belong, the bodies and relics of the dead, are in well lit museums, where they are stared at, touched, cleaned, and everything the dead cared about, is erased by the living, as if the living had the right to do so.

What do we respect?  Pretty much nothing…not even the wishes of the dead.  Life seems to be all about US and what we want.

Seems wrong, somehow.   I wonder how archeologists would like to have the people they love dug up, taken them away, and put on display.  Just because people died a long time ago, doesn’t mean their wishes are null and void.

Grave robbers rob because there’s money in it.

The bottom line is that nothing is safe from us, not even in dead.


Photo:  Aaron Greenwood



Don’t go…

Hands, Hand, Together, Prayer, Community

the beauty of him
the way his hands
moved over me
the feel of his lips
against mine
the way we spoke
without words
his smile
his serious blue eyes
I told him I couldn’t live
without him
don’t be silly
he muttered
I told him
we’d had a great life
a perfect life
we did
he whispered
sliding into
when he was gone
everything was dark
and flat
I couldn’t think of a single reason
to take another breath
and when I finally hit
rock bottom
a stray tuxedo cat
stared at me
through the French doors
and I knew
without a doubt
Emily  was his
final gift to me

they saved me

Nightfall…a poem

Forest, Tree, The Sunlight, Dark

when the forest
settles down for the night
and the light fades
the sounds change
prey and predator
go to their appointed places
some hide
and some
their eyes huge
as mice
run for cover
it’s the nightly game
of survival
we all play it
each and every
one of us


Photo:  Pixabay

Wheels, gears and cogs…a poem

black and brown wooden wall decor

the wheels
and gears
but we don’t get
any smarter
not about what matters
we build better
like guns
and other weapons
instead of building
I don’t think
our species
is capable
of those things
on a grand scale
we are death
to living things
as the wheels
and cogs
and guns
keep getting made
because that’s
what’s important
to the men in charge
to the men
we have allowed
to threaten
and destroy
all life
on this planet


Photo:  Zolan Tasi

When we’re finished with this life…this is how we leave…

photo of man closing his eyes

Photo:  Christopher Campbell

This weekend…Remember

silver-colored god tags hanging on hooks shallow focus photography

Photo:  Holly Mindrup

A short story about life, death, a guy named Mr. Smith and one named Bob, and the answers everyone’s been looking for.

“You’re dead,” he said, kindly.

“You must be mistaken,” she laughed.  “I don’t feel the slightest bit dead.”

“It can take some getting used to.”

“I seriously doubt that.  I mean if I can’t tell the difference between being alive, or being dead, I think there’s a problem with your set-up.”

“Yes,” he muttered, rubbing his chin.  “Several others have mentioned that, as well.  But there’s nothing to be done about it.  Admittedly, being alive and being dead may seem to be similar,  but there’s a matter of position.  By that I mean being on the earth in a body and being dead, seemingly in a body, can be rather confusing.”

“I feel exactly the same as I always do,” she said, straightening her blouse.

“It’s an illusion.”

“What’s an illusion,” she asked.

“Everything,” he said, taking a sip of Mountain Dew.

“Wait,” she said.  “You’re drinking Mountain Dew and you expect me to believe that I’m dead?”

“What I am ingesting, has nothing to do with you being alive or dead, but I promise you that you are completely dead.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said, primly.  “Not at all.  I would like to see your superior.”

“Hey, Bob,” he called.  “One of them wants to see my…superior,”

Bob appeared and said, “What now?”

“She doesn’t believe she’s dead.”

“So?  Tag her and keep going.”

“She asked to see my superior.”

He looked at her.  “You’ve seen me,” he said, holding out his arms.  “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“You’re kidding, right?  That’s it?”

“What were you expecting?  Show tunes?”

“Do you know any?” she asked.

“One or two,” he sighed.  “Your species tends to sing a lot.  Too much, if you want my honest opinion..”

“And what does your species do?”

“We process dead things.”

“I’m going home,” she said, standing up.

“There is no home, at least not in the literal sense.  There are simply different places.”

“You mean we’re never finished?” she said.

“Finished with what?” asked Bob.

“Living lives.”

“There’s nothing else to do.  Not really.  Why?  Did you have something in mind?”

“Maybe a nice vacation on a beach somewhere,” she said.  “But how should I know?  Humans are kept completely in the dark.  We have no idea what’s going on.”

“Look,” said Bob.  “There isn’t any home base, if that’s what you mean.  If some place feels familiar, it’s only because you just came from that lifetime.  Naturally, that’s the  life you’ll remember best.  But that will happen when you die in each of your lives.  You never stop living, there’s nothing else to do but live.  Everything is alive.  When you die, you’re just a different kind of alive.  And yes, a vacation on a beach somewhere can probably be arranged, if that’s what you really want.”

“I don’t believe any of this.”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe,” he said.   “You don’t have control over anything, but I can offer you a menu.”

“I’m not hungry, but thank you.”

“Not a food menu,” said Bob, clearly frustrated.

The man behind the desk snickered and she growled at him.  He quieted.

“A menu of what?”

“Of where you’d like to go next.  What you’d like to be, and all that good stuff. An alternative would be to sit here and stare at Mr. Smith for a few million years.”

“I don’t want to do that,” she said quickly.  “Please don’t take that personally, Mr. Smith.”

“I never do,” he said, grabbing a paperback from his desk drawer, removing his bookmark.

“This is a weird place,” she said to Bob.


“No maybe about it.”

“Would you like to be Samoan?  German, Swedish, African, Danish, Scottish, or a lizard?  You can be rain, a planet, a tree, or a tzzilap.  You can be whatever you like.”

What’s a tzzilap?”

” A tzzilap is a small leaf like creature that becomes invisible at dawn. It is highly poisonous, kills when it feels like it, and eats constantly.  It lives on a very small planet just past Pluto.  Think of it as a mini black hole, only more dangerous.”

“Why would I want to be that?”

“No idea.  It was just a suggestion, but please hurry up, my program starts in nine minutes.”

“Program?  Minutes?” she scoffed.  “Tell me there’s a difference between life and death.”

“I will, if you truly want me to.  But you won’t like it.”

Mr. Smith cleared his throat.

“Hit me with it, Bobby,” she said, leaning back in her chair.  “How bad can it be?”

“The difference between life and death is that when you’re dead,” he said, softly, “you can no longer be with those you love and leave behind.”

The beginning and end of the human species…I think we’re currently 3rd or 4th from the bottom and working our way down.

Used Matchsticks on White Background

Photo:  Ferbugs


Goose, Bird, Flight, Flying

as far as we know
a goose
doesn’t think
about flying
she just flies
is what she does
it’s as natural to her
as breathing
we can’t know for sure
but I doubt she thinks about
not being able to fly
about having to walk
or crawl everywhere
it doesn’t seem as if she would
compare herself to other beings
and wonder why they were always
on the ground
and not in the air
I think our species is the only one
that thinks about what others
can and cannot do
the only one
that thinks of never ending destruction
and deadly weapons
that could end all life on the planet
I think we’re the only broken ones here
I think every other species
just lives
and does’t worship death
I don’t think a goose hates
or wants more than she needs
I think a goose is balanced
and in harmony with nature
she isn’t other
but part of
we are the ones who are
out of place
we don’t belong here
we are the enemy
to every
living thing


007 dies at 90…farewell Sean Connery

Sean Connery - James Bond wallpaper - Free Desktop HD iPad iPhone wallpapers

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