Dance in Denial

Autumn dons a mask,
regales the changing season,
ignores Winter’s threat –
and I too, dance, brightly clad,
deny the nearness of death.

 

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VJ

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

16 thoughts on “Dance in Denial”

  1. I find when I check out the obituaries, I am truly saddened when someone in their 40’s or 50’s dies too young…and then I see that many have lived into their 80’s. I always reflect at that moment that I could have died many times in the past, but here I am, still alive at 65. I count my blessings, even though I can’t dance anymore.

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  2. Seems to me a sign of maturity to contemplate death, acknowledge its inevitability. I may just be associating maturity with old enough to have time enough apart from duties to let my mind wander …
    Good poem, inspiration to make the most of each moment, make each a dance.

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  3. “And I lay me down with a will” but I digress. I spend every moment inside my own head (which needs dusting) so there’s not much chance I’m in yours. I’ve been told that we are in denial of death because the unconscious can’t conceive of it as a reality. Depending on your philosophy, death is real and at the same time not real because there is no self to die. Its like the chicken/egg thing, no wait, its like the all aspirins are alike thing. No, its the unknown which is something we have to discover when we get there. And its inevitable so…….Bob’s your uncle. 😮

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    1. Ha ha ha. Leave it to you to make me laugh. I have spent quite a bit of time at death’s side, and experienced some of the beyond (long story). Most days I am cool with it all, but back to a previous post this week – feeling crabby at the moment. This too will pass…just like gas.

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  4. Death is always near VJ. Have you ever read the Denial of Death by Ernest Becker? Its basically a light and fluffy beach read except for the fact that the author is a bit of a pessimist.

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      1. Are you in my head, Mike? There are days when death is a promise, a reprieve from what I know will not end any other way. Ideation, they call it. Will, however, always reaches for life.

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