Thoughts on Death and Disease

There is any number of things that can cause disease according to the studies of microbiology. The known causers of disease range anywhere from microscopic viruses to their larger counterparts, bacteria. This perspective is the most applicable to the ordinary man, commonly acting as the unbeliever of bodily strength and resilience. After all, our bodies are supposedly under protection by a homeostatic fortress that can only be compromised by the allowance of the immune system. Some illnesses cannot be prevented by the lymphatic regime that circulates in our blood. As many believe, with the help of medicine any disease can be cured. Just by taking a simple pill or a syrup one can be relieved of their symptoms. There are exceptions to this "cure-all" rule, though their roots exist in the unseen parts of the body. In fact, an apparently unwitting disease such as a cancer will turn ones cells against oneself, often with little hope of recovery. This disease in particular is one of the most feared by many of the contemporary western population. Medicine can't seem to cure it, because there are no microbes to fight off. The root cause of cancer can be traced back to certain physical things, but scientists claim that nearly everything will give you cancer. So it seems that a cancerous body is one that has turned against itself in an effort to bring one to their death. Initially, there must have been a resignation to death. Whether conscious or unconscious, the subject had to manifest death in some way. As life goes on the conscious ego fears death. For according to its logic, death is the utter end of the first and last life one has been given. Also, this would mean the death of ones ego, all of which only ever existed in the mind. One might get into the habit of worrying about what will happen after death. Perhaps, whether it will turn out to be a hell of eternal suffering or a heaven of eternal pleasure. The Atheist might tell you as a matter-of-fact; nothing will happen after death. It will suffice to say, that imagining nothing is impossible. One cannot exist in nothingness, so it is more likely that you'll go to hell, but even that is still very improbable. The more probable option would be that consciousness is reincarnated back into the circle of life on Earth. For when one dies, a baby will be born in their place. Will it be their consciousness? It is possible. Although, ones consciousness could never recall their past life. This is because memory is purely a physical thing existing solely in the brain, decomposing as the body does. If one can come to the realization that death is only a means to a new beginning, then disease will no longer be a thing attached to fear. Thus, life will be lived as if it were a game to be played, free and frivolously.

An Old Book

There is a magic feeling that arises when one leafs through the pages of an old book which has not been gazed upon in years. The pungent odor of degrading paper lends one an immediate feeling of relief, each page turned smelling more and more of sweet literature. The words in this book are not sacred, but they jump seamlessly from every page as if an old friend were telling you his brilliant idea at its initial conception. Simple phrases effectively resonate with every bone in ones body. The book is a mystery to the mind, yet all too predictable in nature. The overarching theme is unknown to the intellect, because ones unconscious is already passively performing it. With bleached pages flaunting their fragility, the book is slowly withering, following in the footsteps of its mortal author. The author speaks the truth, but his words are not geared towards a capricious audience. For contemporary literature tends to deem the past as something resembling forlorn history, retained but impertinent. The book takes a bound for the unspeakable, presenting its ideas though it were some profound classic literature one could read in spare time. Every now and then an old book in the untouched parts of the library can find its way into the right hands. This person is touched, simply by the fact such an author existed with ideas not unlike his own. The book finds itself in the hands of one who knows where to take its teachings. It carries an ember bright and lucid, so that someday one may rekindle the blaze.