Death and Tacks

My heroes used to be athletes and renaissance-men... those giants of the modern age who seem to rise above the horizon of the everyman, who depart from that which is considered possible, plotting their tack to a wind apart, garnering thereby an audience of agape farmers in their field, awing at the rising constellation of human accomplishment and ability before them. Truthfully, in a certain way, they still are, especially in the sense of responding to "a wind apart"... but I consider this wind, invisible to all, unknown to most, and, frankly, implausibly foolish to the world (which is a bit unimaginative besides), to be the defining factor in those to whom I newly look toward as paragons. Those who refused to listen to the unimaginative droning of the world, whose souls burned within them, who walked with one foot on the Earth and the other, not bound by the physical realm, landed where it would, who inhaled air and exhaled something purer, something more meaningful. They are radical and counter-cultural, but not guerrillas, although their assaults on the status-quo are somewhat bombastic. They wander about singing about Peace and Love or whatever else moves them, but they are not hippies, though they are often in an elevated state. They do good works such as the world seldom sees and always forgets, but they are not philanthropists, except maybe in the generous donation of everything they are. Such as these are my heroes. Francesco di Pietro di Bernadone. Gonxha Bojaxhiu. Karol Józef Wojtyła. More commonly known as St. Francis of Assisi, Mother Theresa, Pope John Paul II. In the interest of readability, I'm going to try to keep these posts shorter than previously, because I know we don't all have hours and hours to spend reading and contemplating and discussing and discerning, etc etc (wouldn't that be grand though? We'd be so wise!) So I didn't even get to what the title was about, death and tacks. Here's a quick blurb about my recent thoughts regarding death: (The tacks will have to wait til later to even be mentioned in summary)... Death is final? No, it is not. Not in the least! Death of the human body is, in a convoluted way, helps us to honor Life. Without Death, what would Life mean? Interestingly, death never should have been: it only entered into existence because of sin. But we have been given ultimate victory over death. Ultimate as in "totally complete and irreversible". If death is supposedly final, but now not final, and supposedly inexorable, but now defeated, then what is death? Ineffably and paradoxically, death is now nothing. So what then am I talking about? Nothing? then how is it that you know what I am speaking about? Because death has touched all of our lives with its usurping, pallid tentacles. Tentacles of nothing, as we agree. ah but wait! If death is nothing then what is life? Also nothing? NO! It is Everything! If fear of death is fear of nothing, then let us not be fools and fear death! Let us scoff at death, as it were nothing, for it really is. HO! We are freed from death? Indeed! Let us exalt in life, then! Let us not fear anything lesser than death, for anything less would be to fear the puddle and not the ocean. Let us not fear hunger nor poverty, cold nor heat, man nor beast. Let us not be anxious! Let us not worry nor have any concern on our hearts, but only love of life and the author of life! that's a short bit... see? all at once, it would be too long for anyone to read. Peace and Love to all you brothers and sisters.