A Paradox (Pt. II)

How brave you must be, to set fire to yourself, unsure if you will rise from the ashes.

How does new life spring from the charred remains of a forest ? How do I become better without killing an old way of thinking ? How could the sun, our planet, and the entire solar system come to be without the death of an ancient star ?

Death is inevitable yet impossible. Ordinary yet extraordinary. We grow only to die, and we die in order to continue growing. Energy can only transform: endings are always beginnings.

Death is not just a paradox, but an illusion. One can die several times in one's life, and in fact, must do so. The phoenix doesn't rise without first burning to ashes. Perhaps some logic and poetry to help explain ?

It's absurd... It's real life... It's devastatingly beautiful, like a supernova. A star has died, but it's not gone. A star once giving light and warmth in its small corner of the universe, had to come to an end. But its material isn't lost, it eventually forms new stars that give warmth and light to new planets. Everything you see in our solar system, from the smallest cells and bacteria to the biggest planets and our sun, are all thanks to (at the least) a single ancient star. Every atom on this earth, including you, was created within an incredibly bright, blazing ball of nuclear fusion. That "dead" star is still burning bright, just in a different way. The 13th century Persian poet Rumi once wrote, "We are stars wrapped in skin, the light you are seeking has always been within."

How do we find the stars? By waiting until night. The sun goes down and leaves the world cold and dark, but this is the only way to reveal the universe. One of the greatest treasures is looking at a completely dark night sky. The amount of diamonds you find is uncountable. Likewise, my light inside can't be found without first finding darkness. Within that darkness, pain, suffering, and isolation lie waiting.

The most defining moment of my life is when I decided to meet a part of myself who needed to die. I found myself writhing on the floor in the darkest part of a moonless night. Time couldn't have crept slower. Skin on fire, muscles unable to relax, a foreign substance seeping from every bone at an agonizing rate. The carpet was soaked from the tears that couldn't stop falling. From terrible choices I had made, I lost connections with friends and family. My partner at the time was fast asleep on the bed, high as hell, and unconcerned with what I was going through. I was truly alone, swallowed whole by despair, only befitting that it was under the cover of darkness. I thought my life was over. I assured myself that this pain would never subside, and I knew no one would be coming to save me. How badly I wanted to give up. How badly I wanted to give in and taste that bitter poison once again, to put an end to this suffering. But I knew that would only prolong it. I never felt more worthless. Hopeless thoughts of death were all I could think about as I was convinced my life would end that night. Turns out I was right, because I did die. The no-good, addicted, thieving, not-good-enough-to-be-a-father, loser lay motionless on the floor, nothing more than a pile of ashes glowing dimly in the pitch dark room.

I refused to give up. I refused to continue the life I was living. I said it out loud, I told myself "NO!" That I would NOT give up. The room got brighter. I said it again, tears streaming down my face once more. I remembered how I came to this abyss willingly to set myself free. This is what I wanted, I knew it would get to the point of great suffering, but it was necessary to kill what was hindering my growth. I reassured myself that it was better than a life of addiction, that I would get my friends and family back, that I would get myself back. I would have my son in my life and he would be proud of me, my grandmother who passed would be proud of me, I WILL BE PROUD OF ME. What was once a dense, pitch black room now seemed as bright as dawn. It was still middle of the night, but I could see the entire room unaided. The air was lighter, I could breathe easily again. I inhaled deeply, and exhaled forcefully towards the pile of ashes, sending them adrift. And from those ashes, a new fire was born.

I felt brand new. I felt like I was glowing, illuminated from a new star being birthed inside. Just like the sun or a phoenix, both rise from the dead, and both burn brightly. Death is only an illusion. I was there, I absolutely died that night, but here I am telling the tale and stronger than ever before. Only through the depths of despair and suffering can the astonishing light of your own being truly surface. Whether you find a star or a phoenix, it will be your source of will power burning so brightly that nothing external could extinguish it.

The word death gets such a bad rap because of the pain attached to it. But as I conquer it in my everyday life, it brings me no fear of my last day on this planet. As my phoenix rose from the ending of who I once was, so will it rise from the ending of my life here. As a new star ignites from the remains of an exploded star, why would my death be any different ? As above, so below. Energy can only transform.

So you see, death is nothing but transformation. A simple illusion made fearful by the unknown. There is no such thing as nothingness.