Titanic Living

There are about 700 muscles in the body — long and short sheets of well worked pink tissue — and all 700 relax immediately at the moment of your physical death. All of them up until that moment are flexed for what Life’s assignment is on the day of your death. All 700 are working to take you somewhere. Then, perhaps without your knowing, they release every major and minor tension they ever held and sink to their resting places, the same way the Titanic slipped silently below the freezing waters of the Atlantic to the velvet ocean floor below. 

Your heart ceases to contract, and blood stops circulating through the microscopic tunnels of your body. Your surface veins eliminate all the vessels of life, and your skin begins to fade to the soothing color of a pale linen sheet. Your shell will cool 2 degrees Celsius every hour. Blood, no longer heeding the call of a beating heart, pools in low lying areas of the body. With your time expired and your journey through, your body goes through a very precisely designed shutdown process. In some respects, this means you’re still very active. You’re just not around to take credit for it. 

Most people are afraid of the one way ticket they’ll inevitably have to use to get across the Universe’s deep blue chasm, even if they believe in an afterlife. We’re all screwed. Everyone’s flying Spirit. There’s no room for your carry-on either. You’re going to die, and I’m going to die. I wish there was an easier way to say it. Maybe I could say, “We’re all going to one day be on permanent vacation.” That sounds much more fun. No more wet shoes on rainy days! No more doing the dishes! No more wondering if you need to work overtime to pay the mortgage! No more bankruptcy because of cancer treatment bills! No more worrying about what to wear to work! No more bad haircuts, guys! Doesn’t this all sound much more glorious?!

But what happens after? Sure, I won’t have another crappy day at work, but I also won’t be able to put my feet on warm, summer grass and oh my god it’s going to be dark because nothing happens to us and I’ll be in eternal black nothingness!! *heaves into paper bag* 

What do you care? Your brain would have stopped working hours before.

Personally, and this is no secret to most who know me, I don’t believe it’s eternal unconscious nap time. I’ve seen white light. I don’t argue with people who say it was a hallucination. Damn fine hallucination if you ask me! I’ve been thinking of death a lot lately. I don’t know why. I’ve been wondering how much time I have left, if I’ll die alone somewhere, if I’ll live to be old enough to humor my loved ones with a little light hearted dementia. 

It’s not bad to consider your mortality. It’s a very weird way to put many things into perspective. For example, I was thinking about Life’s brevity today when suddenly I realized cufflinks are a thing. Cufflinks! They mean a lot to some people. Sometimes they’re heirlooms, very sacred tools passed from one patriarch to another one in waiting. Sometimes they’re bought to impress people, to tell other scared sacks of flesh and bone that they’re very important and small details don’t slip past them easily. My, my, my. They add a little prestige to the human wearing them because there’s a section of society that has collectively come to a conclusion about people who wear cufflinks. My God, we’re all such idiots! 

I went home last week after teaching America’s future and decided to donate every single item of work attire I had except three pairs of black pants and about five black shirts. This was for a couple of reasons: one, now I don’t have to concern myself with what to wear because life is short, baby. Two, deciding what to wear was one of those small things that clouded up my spiritual frequency, and I don’t need help with that. I’ve lit my “Susan Duty is a Weirdo” candle, which has now caught a neighboring barn on fire and everything is pretty much ablaze right now. Yay. How exciting. 

Something is definitely stirring, and I intend on unraveling this entire ball of yarn. What’s going on here? Why am I here? What am I supposed to be doing? Who am I? When am I leaving? Will I be ready to wash myself in the white light that comes when my muscles relax their last time? I have to think about my life, about what is truly significant, and I have to turn my attention there. This is a spiritual demand. I can’t wait for Time to bring me joy or resolution. I can’t wait for circumstances to be different to say, “Gee, now we can get down to business here.” The business of Life is now. It counts today. 

Everything is fine now. When it’s not fine, it’s really because my perception is not fine. It’s because I’m angry at the grain of sand for not being in the coordinates I would have preferred for it to be. It’s because my ability to reason is completely fucking up my day. Everything is fine now. Everything will be fine. Life is so beautiful, so short, so ugly and hard, so lovely and grueling. I hope I stay this aware. I hope I remember how lucky I am to be here with you all. And more than anything, I hope the Light finds me on the best day, after I’ve explained everything to you in great detail about how to survive here, after I’ve showed appreciation to all of creation for its company. I will one day go the way of the Titanic. I will cross a Great Divide. I know where I’m going. It’ll be even better than this. 

And hey, if it’s just nothing after all, it’s cool. My brain stopped working years ago anyway.