How is it possible to live, each and every day, each and every moment, not knowing when I will breathe my last? It is really quite extraordinary, upon reflection, that I am able to function at all while living on the edge of an abyss or on the ledge of a sixty story building. I think if I were to let in the full measure of this existential reality I might go insane. That, at least, is the common consensus: The reality of death appears so paralyzing that it must be repressed in order for us to live and function in one's daily life.
Do you agree? Is death so terrifying that all but a sliver of awareness must be swept away so we can live with a modicum of tranquillity?
I'm not inclined to believe that we humans are so fragile that we can't handle more than a sliver of reality. I give us more credit than that. I digest the fact of death a little at a time... until a monumental loss happens, such as the death of a parent or other loved one, and reality comes crashing down. We face our own mortality at such times and pick up the pieces of our shattered life and return to daily living, sobered.
empty snail shell
could be, will be