To Start Again
Another bitter day. The cold stabs inadequately protected flesh like a stiletto. It’s a white death that is felt, something you know intuitively.
I woke this morning with a shocking high blood glucose reading. Everything has a cause. I identified several possibilities, and changed my insulin pump setting. High blood sugar is another form of death, albeit much slower than hypothermia in the out-of-doors.
A brush with death has a way of clarifying the mind, of purifying consciousness of the clutter of this and that.
I took the photo of the wind-swept snow-covered field yesterday. The view in the morning sun is one of dance of temperature, force of wind on snow covered exposed ground, the play of light and shadow on the ridges of drifted ice crystals. This is a spare, stark, almost black and white, stripped down vista. Viewed from spring, summer, or fall you’d see uncountable signs of life. Now the field appears as a dead zone.
All of this to say, that I am intrigued with the lyric, and the melody of Billy Idol’s 1983 hit, White Wedding. There is the haunting intro, that puts one on notice that what is coming will take you to the precipice of ordinary sensibility. A White Wedding. In Japan, white is the color emblematic of death. A wedding marks the death of bachelorhood, of the unattached life for both parties. I approached my wedding, terrified. I knew that everything was to change, in ways that I could not foresee. The ritual was the crossing over of a boundary, a beginning of “we” and an end of the solitary “I.”
In the video you may note the blood on the knuckle of the bride, subsequent to the placement of the barbed-wire wedding ring. I understand the blood was quite real in the making of the video. The sensuality of the visuals is true to the utter physicality of death’s approach. Death is no abstraction, but a condition of bodily suffering.
A lot is going on in this video. What do you think? What do you see? I must conclude by mentioning that the experience of death, terrifying, is a preparation, a cleansing precursor to resurrection, to a new beginning.
As always the lyrics are appended after the video. “Little sister” is affectionate slang for the story tellers girlfriend.
White Wedding
by Billy Idol
Hey little sister what have you done?
Hey little sister who’s the only one?
Hey little sister who’s your superman?
Hey little sister who’s the one you want?
Hey little sister shot gun!It’s a nice day to start again.
It’s a nice day for a white wedding.
It’s a nice day to start again.Hey little sister who is it you’re with?
Hey little sister what’s your vice and wish?
Hey little sister shot gun (oh yeah)
Hey little sister who’s your superman?
Hey little sister shot gun!It’s a nice day to start again (come on)
It’s a nice day for a white wedding
It’s a nice day to start again.Take me back home
Hey little sister what have you done?
Hey little sister who’s the only one?
I’ve been away for so long (so long)
I’ve been away for so long (so long)
I let you go for so longIt’s a nice day to start again (come on)
It’s a nice day for a white wedding
It’s a nice day to start again.There is nothin’ fair in this world
There is nothin’ safe in this world
And there’s nothin’ sure in this world
And there’s nothin’ pure in this world
Look for something left in this world
Start againCome on
It’s a nice day for a white wedding
It’s a nice day to start again.
It’s a nice day to start again.
It’s a nice day to start again
4 thoughts on “To Start Again”
I understand that death is the main metaphor for change, but that use has never quite worked for me. As a stalwart atheist, my sense is that death is the final act and there is no resurrection. The curtain comes down, leveling eternal oblivion on all, for everyone is inevitably touched by this ending, one of the few things that is universally shared by every living creature. The specter of change itself, on the other hand, is how we calculate transformation. Aspects of ourselves or our points of view morph over time and we see the world in a different light. If a former part of us “dies” in the course of change (in the actual sense), we would not be able to place the past, the present and the potential future into the juxtaposition so necessary for making cogent decisions. This correlation of time allows us to adapt and to see the world in an increasing clarity (if we are lucky).
I do not relish the end of life for there will always be too much I yearn to know. But as for change itself, while I still breathe air and my heart continues to beat, I hope that my curiosity will thrive and allow me to remain open to myriad possibilities that are offered every single day.
Tobin, a lot is packed into your lines of comment. Death is the great universal barrier, the terminus of which we are all conscious. Death has many points of view. Do we resist the disconnect of the mind, which the deterioration of our physical faculties entails, finalized by our individual death? I do, as I already regret the stack of “to be read” books may not be finished before I must check out. Do we regret the likely loss of a legacy, that soon enough no one will remember our name, that we ever were? I do. I regret that my contribution will be forgotten, will be unrecognized soon after I am gone. Would having a building or a foundation named after me help? Also I wonder if what we/I dread is the abyss of being alone, losing, leaving behind all that I love, and all of those that love me? I suspect that one should be at the top of the list. I remember the stark terror of losing my parents for a few minutes in a department store once. That was an icy fear. I’d put my money on that, the dread of being eternally unloved, separated from the engagement that energizes, that is life itself.
I doubt that I ever believed in any physical revivication of the remains, a dead body. That’s nothing more than crass superstition. Clearly resurrection has to be the ultimate absurdity to the logic of central state materialism, a view that matter and energy as we understand those forms define reality without remainder. Yet, I think that the miracle stories, and the stories of resurrection as we find in various sacred texts, have a metaphorical function. They point to the wisdom that death and life are not opposites, states in radical contradiction. Death and life are aspects of Reality that can only be approached by metaphor. The old has to diminish, die, before the new, the alternative angle of view, can be born. The old logic apt for yesterday’s challenge, will not suffice for today’s journey, and problems. A tight-fisted-death-grip refusal to release the old, means that awareness of new unanticipated angles of approach, adaptation, increased clarity, new ways to treat our present condition — will not be apprehended. I believe that what I am expressing goes to your description of the process of change as you experience it. I think that I am suggesting that death is not oblivion, but a hand off to another generation, no matter their ability or lack of ability to carry on the torch of the sacred flame, so to speak. I believe that we are far more influential than we know.
Wonderful rejoinder.
You stated: “Also I wonder if what we/I dread is the abyss of being alone, losing, leaving behind all that I love, and all of those that love me?” Death always leaves those we love behind, if we are so lucky as to not live in a Hiroshima. That we all (myself included) fear the loneliness of death is both understandable and absurd. The person who we are, the memories, experiences, thoughts, loves, hates, tastes and smells of life vaporize in an instant. The neurons that hold the fragments of our life give up the ghost, never to return. What is left behind are only our musings created at a point in our existence that was singular in nature. There is no loneliness aside from those who will miss our presence in the flesh. For them, it is their own interpretation of who we were that will sustain that sense of us and even that will change over time. But we will not be lonely because there will not be conscious memory of anything, not even the blackness of death.
Yet the fact that we alter our little corner of the universe is indisputable. The Butterfly Effect is just such a theory into the way small interactions can have an impact well beyond that which we intend.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butterfly_effect
Our sense of self may sometimes lead us into wondering if we have personally had any influence on any part of life and humanity. My own self-aggrandizing ego would like to have something tangible to hold onto as I age, but the fulfillment of that dream, at least for the vast majority of humanity, is not even remotely possible. So we can take heart in the Butterfly Effect and keep in mind that we will never know the influence of even this conversation on the course of human history.
A thought provoking response. In fact pondering your point of view jump-started my post of this morning. Is not everyone potentially a Socrates, the essential element being a symposium of willing interlocutors? I could wish that were so….
Your statements of the first paragraph are on target as far as I am concerned. You observe that there is no one, nothing that leaves in death, which/who experiences regret. With our death, the light just goes out as the Buddhist would put it. That “the flame is extinguished” is a fruitful metaphor. However, I do regret the prospect now, the sorrow that those who know me, will feel, will suffer for some time. There is certain to be “unfinished business” which will prolong the sorrow. I feel sadness in the present about that. I hurt now for them, when I think about it. I do not mind that they will have only their interpretation of the meaning of my persona. When I reflect, that’s all that I have, a changing loosely connected collection of selves, that manage a public facade of civil quietude. What I hope that will remain of me, for those that will miss me, is some sense of what I thought was worthwhile in and from my singular life. What do I recognize as worthy of value, of sacred quality in this time and place that I have call home? I know that actions convey more than words to convey the point.
The butterfly effect. That should be uncontroversial, and a constant clue that everything matters. And the agnostic dimension is, I think a valuable feature. What we think is most determinative, the most efficient to shape the future may be the exact opposite. And those insignificant, unconscious comments or actions of reflex may be the most important. Only time will tell. We are all in the same boat, all of us. It is fortunate to not know, to rest in the frame of mind and heart that everything matters in some way.
As I read your comments I remembered a statement made by Don that he was very interested in “memes.” Thinking about what Don said, it seems to me that memes, the symbols, linguistic or graphic are the keys to culture, to the endurance of shared meaning, to what is left behind of past lives. Memes are what remains. And memes are the links which form and define relationships. Relationships are life, the give and take of resources….. Thinking out loud.
Which causes me to think that violence is a surd-like, un natural rending of a link. Perhaps that’s a rule-of -thumb description of evil……
Will any individuals life make a difference over the arc of history? I believe that all do. It is best that we do not know how and to what extent..