We Die by Consent

[PrinceMyshkin]

No one is compelled to die
though some pretend
to go reluctantly, as if
life were a gift
they’d only just begun to unwrap

We see Senator or Doctor Death
come sloping up our front walk.
The rawness of thought
sticks in our craw:

Didn’t we imagine this before
and before, and yet
this time, it feels real.

[Bar22do]

Ah, a new of yours!

How should one understand:

"no one is compelled to die"?

and are we not all going

"reluctantly, as if
life were a gift
(we) only just begun to unwrap" ?

Anyway, with all the rawness of your master-word, I love the idea that you force death to slope up our front walk, we are not the ones who slope down to it... there is still so much to unwrap, no matter how much we have lived.... and death is never real and when it is, it feels still an illusion, unless Life is...

Thank you Prince, for this tough, but intensely felt poem...
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[Virgil]

My thoughts ran exactly like Bar's. If we're not compelled then how come Senator Death (hahahaha!!! I love that!) is sloping up our walk? Other than that question it is a good poem.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Ah, a new of yours!

How should one understand:

"no one is compelled to die"?

One might understand it in any of the following ways:

1) That writing poetry entitles (and almost obliges) one to contemplate even the most far-fetched thoughts.

2) The poet need not be assumed to stand 100% behind the literal truth of what he/she asserts. Indeed, even in everyday conversations one sometimes blurts out half-digested thoughts, thoughts contrary to "reality"

3) We do not live by only one version of reality, but entertain forbidden thoughts, morbid thoughts, counter-productive thoughts

4) We all entertain a certain number of unprovable beliefs, e.g. in the after-life...


and are we not all going

"reluctantly, as if
life were a gift
(we) only just begun to unwrap" ?

Behind the whole of this poem may lie my anguished concern over a dear very long-time friend of mine, R.F., who appeared to survive a tumour on his pancreas but has recently been diagnosed with cancerous fluid in his stomach, given a prognosis of 3 months to live, but has chosen to decline chemo-therapy and refuses to eat.



Anyway, with all the rawness of your master-word, I love the idea that you force death to slope up our front walk, we are not the ones who slope down to it... there is still so much to unwrap, no matter how much we have lived.... and death is never real and when it is, it feels still an illusion, unless Life is...

Thank you Prince, for this tough, but intensely felt poem...
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And thank you for the recommendation of Saramago's Death, with Interruptions, which I had read before but am re-reading now. The poem was written, coincidentally, (?) before I began re-reading this book.

[Virgil]

So sad about your friend Prince. I can see how that would lead you to write what you did. Perhaps the poem might do well with a footnote.

[Bar22do]

Licentia poetica against my square mind... well, not exactly square...
Now - I agree with your 1/, with your 2/ (and am sorry you felt you had to justify anything; but I am much more sorry for your dying friend...); about 3/: we are altogether many layered and often layers contradict one another as I had mentioned about myself in our exchanges, so I am not throwing the first stone! Infinity forbid!; about 4/: agreed, and to tell you my public secret, at the risk of being ridiculous!, I really believe we are not compelled to die! and that times will come we will prove it (not exactly as in Saramago's Death - by the way I am so happy you re-read the novel, which I loved so much and am re-reading myself right now!)
Thank you for the trouble you have taken to answer me.

[PrinceMyshkin]

My thoughts ran exactly like Bar's. If we're not compelled then how come Senator Death (hahahaha!!! I love that!) is sloping up our walk? Other than that question it is a good poem.

Senator Death is always hopeful of claiming his or her 'just due.' Hope my earlier response to Bar satisfied some of your questions.


Licentia poetica against my square mind... well, not exactly square...
Now - I agree with your 1/, with your 2/ (and am sorry you felt you had to justify anything; but I am much more sorry for your dying friend...); about 3/: we are altogether many layered and often layers contradict one another as I had mentioned about myself in our exchanges, so I am not throwing the first stone! Infinity forbid!; about 4/: agreed, and to tell you my public secret, at the risk of being ridiculous!, I really believe we are not compelled to die! and that times will come we will prove it (not exactly as in Saramago's Death - by the way I am so happy you re-read the novel, which I loved so much and am re-reading myself right now!)
Thank you for the trouble you have taken to answer me.

Well, which of us really does believe we will die? It is like the generalization that all swans are white... which holds true until someone spots a single black swan.

As to your remark about throwing the first stone, it reminds me of a statement allegedly made by an Israeli woman: "I would gladly give them East Jerusalem so long as they don't say I threw the first stone."

[Virgil]

Senator Death is always hopeful of claiming his or her 'just due.' Hope my earlier response to Bar satisfied some of your questions.


Yes, thank you.

[Bar22do]

Prince's:

"which holds true until someone spots a single black swan."

- and even then... for does not exception confirm the rule?:)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Prince's:

"which holds true until someone spots a single black swan."

- and even then... for does not exception confirm the rule?:)

Maybe so, but the rest of us won't hear about the one exception, will we?

[MorpheusSandman]

You know, Prince, I've read this one 3 times I think; each time trying to think of something to say but I'm just not sure. I wasn't particularly moved by the piece and yet it deals with one of my favorite subjects. Perhaps it's a bit too "dry" for me, but I really can't think of any substantial criticism either.

[PrinceMyshkin]

You know, Prince, I've read this one 3 times I think; each time trying to think of something to say but I'm just not sure. I wasn't particularly moved by the piece and yet it deals with one of my favorite subjects. Perhaps it's a bit too "dry" for me, but I really can't think of any substantial criticism either.

Thanks. I recognize the dryness you allude to but would defend it as an ironic stratagem in the face of death, i.e., a deliberate refusal to gratify death with the howls of rage and indignation it might consider its due.

[Bar22do]

Thanks. I recognize the dryness you allude to but would defend it as an ironic stratagem in the face of death, i.e., a deliberate refusal to gratify death with the howls of rage and indignation it might consider its due.

What do we know about death, really. Why do we tend to impute it some cruel responsiveness to what we might feel... and what if death were a worthwhile price - because had we been a mono-cellular mass, we would have had immortal.... boredom! (if we were conscious mono-cellulars, that is). Why not just enjoy fully what we thus costly paid for?

[PrinceMyshkin]

What do we know about death, really. Why do we tend to impute it some cruel responsiveness to what we might feel... and what if death was a worthwhile price - for, had we been a mono-cellular mass, we would have had immortal - boredom! (if we were conscious mono-cellulars, that is). Why not just enjoy fully what we thus costly paid for?

We know (or think we know) that in the face of the everything that is our consciousness, which contains the universe and every one we've ever known, that this everything may one day be nothing, a thought we begin to think but never get to finish, an ache in one of our wrists that suddenly....

[Bar22do]

We know (or think we know) that in the face of the everything that is our consciousness, which contains the universe and every one we've ever known, that this everything may one day be nothing, a thought we begin to think but never get to finish, an ache in one of our wrists that suddenly....

This is hardly something we can speculate about, especially because our consciousness is much more than "the everything" we think it contains, but seen as above, it concocts an illusive reality whose allies are pain and feeling of loss indeed... but since we are addicted to making up our left-brain-realities where we could retune instead, why not choose one which would offer more space for joy of the moment when it lasts?

[PrinceMyshkin]

This is hardly something we can speculate about, especially because our consciousness is much more than "the everything" we think it contains, but seen as above, it concocts an illusive reality whose allies are pain and feeling of loss indeed... but since we are addicted to making up our left-brain-realities where we could retune instead, why not choose one which would offer more space for joy of the moment when it lasts?

The "Infinity" forbid that I should evade your observations, but have you read Julien Jaynes' The Origins of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bi-Cameral Mind? (The book is somewhat longer than the title but a very enjoyable love tribute to scholarship, whether or not it proves it's case as stated in the title.)

But choosing to "re-tune" my picture of reality means stepping out of that reality or the firmly rooted notion of it.

[Babbalanja]

No one is compelled to die


Just ask the Canaanites.

Regards,

Istvan

[PrinceMyshkin]

Just ask the Canaanites.

Regards,

Istvan

Why, Istvan, do you select the Canaanites? Why not the kulaks, the Ukraineans, the Chechneans, the Afghanis, killed in such great numbers by the Russians?

[Babbalanja]

Why, Istvan, do you select the Canaanites? Why not the kulaks, the Ukraineans, the Chechneans, the Afghanis, killed in such great numbers by the Russians?
If you insist.

Did they, then, die by consent?

Regards,

Istvan

[PrinceMyshkin]

If you insist.

Did they, then, die by consent?

Regards,

Istvan

As much as the Canaanites did, yes.

[Babbalanja]

As much as the Canaanites did, yes.
I was under the impression that the Israelites slaughtered the Canaanites according to God's command in Deuteronomy 20:17. Did they, then, die by consent?

Regards,

Istvan

[Bar22do]

Why don't you ask of the Indians what they have to recount about the white first (and later) visits to their continents? (witnessed documented history)
Canaanites and Israelites is a story which today's historians and archeologists still try to unravel -

Regards to Prince and to court philosopher, Babbalanja!

It suddenly became so clear to me why we all die by consent!


I will tell of it later, when I can. For now, only this:

How do Pacific salmon distinguish,
at the river mouth, mixed in sea waters
fresh drops that guide them,
like signposts
back to their native streams where
they spawn and die, by consent?

A Happy New Year to all...

[Babbalanja]

Why don't you ask of the Indians what they have to recount about the white first (and later) visits to their continents? (witnessed documented history)

Another good point. Let's add the Native Americans, the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Jews of Europe, the Pontine Greeks, the Turkish Armenians, and the aboriginal Tasmanians.

Did these people, then, die by consent?

I'm just trying to understand what point PM is making in his poem. Who does he mean by "We"? What does he mean by "No one is compelled to die"?

Regards,

Istvan

[PrinceMyshkin]

Another good point. Let's add the Native Americans, the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Jews of Europe, the Pontine Greeks, the Turkish Armenians, and the aboriginal Tasmanians.

Did these people, then, die by consent?

I'm just trying to understand what point PM is making in his poem. Who does he mean by "We"? What does he mean by "No one is compelled to die"?

Regards,

Istvan

It was a poetic thought, a dart thrown at the dark.

[Bar22do]

Babbalanjia and Prince,
look below, I somehow placed my answer inside, so it does not show... best

[PrinceMyshkin]

Babbalanjia and Prince,
look below, I somehow placed my answer inside, so it does not show... best

Intriguing, how the aitch are we to read this invisible answer?

[Bar22do]

by consent

Why don't you ask of the Indians what they have to recount about the white first (and later) visits to their continents? (witnessed documented history)
Canaanites and Israelites is a story which today's historians and archeologists still try to unravel -

Regards to Prince and to court philosopher, Babbalanja!

It suddenly became so clear to me why we all die by consent!

___________________

I will tell of it later, when I can. For now, only this:

How do Pacific salmon distinguish,
at the river mouth, mixed in sea waters
fresh drops that guide them,
like signposts
back to their native streams where
they spawn and die, by consent?

A Happy New Year to all...

[PrinceMyshkin]

by consent

Why don't you ask of the Indians what they have to recount about the white first (and later) visits to their continents? (witnessed documented history)
Canaanites and Israelites is a story which today's historians and archeologists still try to unravel -

Regards to Prince and to court philosopher, Babbalanja!

It suddenly became so clear to me why we all die by consent!

___________________

I will tell of it later, when I can. For now, only this:

How do Pacific salmons distinguish,
at the river mouth, mixed in sea waters
fresh drops that guide them,
like signposts
back to their native streams where
they spawn and die, by consent?

A Happy New Year to all...

If you have more to say on this subject, I am eager to hear, and if you say it as beautifully as you do in the above lines, I will be even happier than I am after reading those lines!

[nightshifft]

ohhh so very real

dark

[qimissung]

"The rawness of thought sticks in our craw..and yet this time it feels real."

I guess we must tiptoe around death's door, longing to know what's inside, then running away like frightened children who've rung the bogeyman's doorbell.

This is as fine an expression of that moment as I have read, my friend.

[qimissung]

I'm sorry about your friend, Prince.

[PrinceMyshkin]

"The rawness of thought sticks in our craw..and yet this time it feels real."

I guess we must tiptoe around death's door, longing to know what's inside, then running away like frightened children who've rung the bogeyman's doorbell.

This is as fine an expression of that moment as I have read, my friend.

Many thanks to you, dear friend, for this and for your condolences in a later posting. 2009 hasn't been a good year for either of us...