Beliefs
Staring at the Sun -- Overcoming the Terror of Death
I'd been on the road for over a week. With little to complain about I took my time. "No hurry," I kept saying to myself.
My van's engine hummed at about fifteen miles per gallon; I figured driving all night would get me to Las Vegas in less than a day. Vegas accounted for my fifth job in two weeks, a record for the year. I figured the entire trip would take me over 2,300 miles of the United States.
Vegas promised another $1,400 for a days work, probably all day. I could drop my solid waste at the Clark County landfill. Then I'd head home, but still hoped to extend my trip for "one more job."
I needed a good hot shower in my own house. The ol' lady would have my favorite towels hanging and fresh tuna sandwiches ready with nearly frozen fat free milk. The sun would rise in an hour or two.
She would wake me when she came in the door, late afternoon, and then I'd dose off again. I never sleep well without her presence. My thoughts remained on the next two or three days. A bank account once in red now galloped into a deep and healthy black. "Its been a good trip."
I slowed at the xx and z junction. Reality returned. Day dreaming in the middle of the night became hazardous after making it to 60. Day dreams sometimes became real night dreams behind the wheel.
Unacceptable.
July's full-moon helped brighten road-side objects. Then I saw a young man hitchhiking. Accompanied by a large, blond xxx and carrying a large green duffle bag, he looked away as I turned the corner. I felt sorry for the dog, knowing the Texas sun would drain his energy in a short while. The young man I took for a hippy of some sort. The duffle bag could have come from a surplus store.
Against my own "no hitch-hiker rule," I stopped and picked them up.
"Hi," the young man shouted much more loudly than necessary as he opened the passenger's door.
"Slide the cargo door open. There's plenty of soft towels for your dog to sleep on."
The dog jumped into the van, showing me he had plenty of experience jumping in and out of vans. He weighed over 70 pounds, easily. As a xxx he brought that joyful enthusiasm so customary to his breed. All laughs and hugs. His blond hair nearly matched his owner's long blond, dirty pony-tail. This dog and his master were on the road for a long time, I surmised. They carried that heavy sweat and unwashed odor so common to desert folk on the road. Nothing filthy or alcoholic in their frangrances caused alarm in my senses distrust of road people. The dog's dirt, the owner's sweat, and my day's on the road now mixed into a forbidding fragrance to anyone daring to come close.
"Pete," the young man offered his name.
"Eddie," I replied. His right-hand shake reminded me of a tree-cutter's hands. Strong, thick, rough, and more than capable of taking care of its owner. He looked much larger sitting on my right than standing near the xxxx'as corner in the moonlight. "He's "six-three" I thought to myself. "He could keep up with the Samoans on a filthy house cleanup job," I thought.
"Where ya heading?", I asked with my least curious tone. I could see that I placed myself in a bad way if he wanted my van. With forty-years his senior, no way would my heart could keep up with this kid's strength.
"San Diego," Pete replied. Then he added that he and Jake, the dog, were on their way back from his brother's funeral. Pete explained that his brother had recently died riding his motorcycle just outside of Jackson, Florida. His brother had just returned from Iraq after his last tour with the marines. A "grunt."
His brother didn't know when to take life easy, I gathered from Pete's tone. "Sam's wife wanted me to attend since she, Mandy, had never seen me." She also wanted Jake in the hands of family.
She would enlist in the navy soon, as his story began to reveal more family information, I could tell he liked to talk. I could also tell that the dog meant a lot to this young man; he's all I have left of my brother. But for this dog, I'm alone in the world, now."
I also learned that his brother had married Mandy before his last tour in Iraq. The two had met in Jacksonville, Florida a few months before Sam's deployment. Mandy held herself afloat while working as a pole dancer in a "beer joint" in Jefferson. As the story grew, I learned that Mandy's parents married late in life and by the time she graduated from high school, she became an orphan.
With a mature appearance landing the pole dancer job came easily enough, but convincing the "Pink Rhino's" owner to give her the job took some doing. She made good money at it, and here she met Sam, an off duty marine out to relax on leave, before Iraq.
Mandy's situation pointed to the navy as a last resort. She counted her "months" before joining up. Sam and Mandy hit it off and before she had finished her first month pole dancing, she and Sam were married. Sam saw no problem supporting her with his military benefits, so they married with hopes for a bright future. Mandy waited for Sam's return and studied nursing at a local college. No longer a pole dancer and now caring for Jake the dog, a spur-of the-monent acquisition by two lovers, their "pound puppy" became Mandy's personal joy.
Within a week of Sam's return he died on a rainy morning because of 'excessive speed," a Florida State Trooper wrote. Adding to her grief, Mandy was advised not to view Sam's body, owing to its horrific injuries. She left his memorty to their last evening together.
Lucky for Mandy that she chose to sleep in that Saturday morning; usually she rode on Sam's motorcycle and loved it. Mandy, according to Pete, had lived with Sam for less than three months before his last assignment to Iraq. Their marriage lasted fifteen months, in total. With the little money Sam saved, Mandy had enough to cremate Sam, pay two months rent, and that was that.
Mandy said she could have lived with my brother forever. "We both liked living together and joked around together." We both "loved science fiction, especially Star Trek's The Next Generation." Pete also related that Mandy stood a head shorter than he and his brother. Her pale, white face looked almost almond shape. She wore her black hair long. After Sam's ashes were buried in the Jefferson County cemetery, Mandy had her hair cropped just below her ears. Pete "knew then" it was time to "hit the road."
With their good-byes said, Jake the dog exchanged hands. Both were teary-eyed. Both promised to keep in touch, and neither knew why they should bother. They were strangers connected by a spouse and a dead brother's death cleanup administration.
The dog did not fit into Pete's plans, Pete explained, but he could not abandon Sam and Mandy's dog. During his stay in Iraq, Sam had mentioned the dog many times in his email. He had also asked xxx to watch over Jack if he "got hit and KIA".
Mandy and Sam adopted Jake from a pound right after their marriage. Sam wanted Mandy to have company and a "barking security alarm." The dog turned out to mean something far greater than breathing security. Mandy sent many pictures and videos of Jake's antics. Few would have wanted more from a canine.
By the time Pete unloaded all of this information I could tell his mourning would go on for some time. His tone hinted that I had become a welcomed sounding board. Within sixty miles of xxx crossroad, I had heard the story of a lovers' tragedy and Pete's role in picking up the pieces.
"Mandy took Sam's death really hard and I kept quiet most of the time." "I helped her out because that's what Sam wanted if something happened to him in Iraq."
Then Pete shared some ideas that he and Sam had shared. Before Sam left for Iraq on his first tour, they had agreed on their ideas about life and death. The prelude to this brother-to-brother meaning of life diad actually began during Pete's tour in Iraq. It had no formality at the time. Now it became a bonified, brotherly quest to uncover "what life really means." The younger brother rencently home from the war Zone, Sam, brouth their dialogue to a close. Pete would continue their quest on his own.
"We may overcome the terror of death. We cannot overcome the anxiety of death. We're all condemned in this way to death as all humanity experiences this universal anxiety," Pete related in a low tone. This, Sam and I agree upon at first.
"O' boy, I thought to myself. I picked up a philosopher."
And in fact, he knew something about what he then unloaded on me.
As a result of my crime scene cleanup company and academic interests, I encouraged Pete to tell his story. Besides, I need both passengers to help keep me awake. They improved on my GPS's sporatic alerts and commands.
And stories Pete told. Pete had joined the marines long before his younger borther. He spent his time with force-recon. He promised himself that he would go to college and learn something special. That's "What Iraq does to force-recon" survivors," he whispered. Now here he rode next to me some six years after his discharge. Now he intended to begin a PhD program in philosophy.
With that said, he had my full attention. I had picked up a clean and sober hitch hiker with a yellow dog, an "ol' yeller." I knew his company would help me stay awake; I needed to start work in Vegas pronto. I would not dose off.
Pete wanted me to know that thinking about death can enliven us and change us. Different thoughts and feelings about death arise with searching out different ideas on the meaning of life and death. Relieving anxiety follows a rigorous, eclectic search.
A low grade anxiety compared to terror lurking in the bask of our minds make a big difference in the way we think, in the way we live.
People with terminal cancer must talk about death. Some people suddenly begin to change. They experience an awakening experience, personal growth. I've seen this in my mother. She met her end much more commly than anyone expected. Talking helped her. Sam's funeral following my mother's death brings me full-circle to an emty family memory.
I related that the "terror of death shows itself in our lives." I've seen it in my business.
Pete then asked, "By the way, what is your business."
"Crime scene cleanup, blood cleanup, suicide cleanup, unattended death cleanup, trauma cleanup, biohazard cleanup, you name it, I'll do it."
"Wow," Pete spoke out loudly.
"And that's what you're doing now?"
"Yep, I'm on my way to Vegas for my last job on a two week tour, as I put it." Now I thought that maybe Pete might like to help on the last steps of this Vegas crime scene homicide cleanup. I'd pay well and have his company to keep me awake.
"Then you must give some thought to death too."
"I do, but not in the way that you do, at least, I do not think so."
Now Pete let the cat out of the bag. He must have dwelled on death from his combat days. He, like so many other combat veterans were condemned to learning about death's mighty fortress of unknowns.
What I learned in Iraq I told to Sam. He should have listened to me, though. But we all go our own way. Sam's dare-devil stunts finally caught up with him. I thought he might not make it back from Iraq. Then this motorcycle thing. It's almost too much to believe. He's gone. My mother's gone. Mandy's on her way to the Navy, and we were nevery family anyway.
"It's all about our own mortality --- pointless, meaningless, more precious; what do we dwell upon, ignore, bury deeply within our consciousness. It's all there every day of our lives. We glaze over it, but it's there."
Now Pete's intellectual role went on and on. I didn't want to interrupt and made agreeing motions and acknowledged that I heard his propositions and musings.
"Plato and Socrates talked about life after death. Others believe in nothing. Me, I keep an open mind and I don't mind one way or the other. For certain, Sam's exit went the way he lived, fast and exciting. Stupid, too, as it turns out."
I related that suicide cleanup often lead me to write about theories of suicide and a bit on the history of suicide. I explained that white males suffer suicide about 73 percent of the time in the US and elsewhere in the world. Mostly protestants, there's no guarantee death won't visit via suicide, given the circumstances. I explained that older white men tend to lead the suicide pack. Often enough to remember their act, I find that they're alone in the world. Nearly destitute, and if they have a dog or cat, usually a dog, they shoot the dog first. Usually they place a towel or jacket over the dog. Then they do their own self-murder.
Leaning back in his seat and lightly baning his dirty poiny tail against his seat's head rest, he went on.
"Religious systems tell us that the fear of death is the mother of all religions. Entire cultures based their thought's on an eternal afterlife." Pete then sat quietly for about ten minutes. Jake got up and stuck his hugh head between our gray, vinyl seats. "Sit Jake,"
Pete commanded with a quiet voice. He then picked up a new theme in his presentation of religion and death.
"I've studied .Mohammedanism and I think it gets a bad rap in the press. Anytime Christians or Jews critique Mohammedanism there's a strong bias. They have it in for socialism in general, and Mohammedasism has a socialist history in its growth. I don't know enough to say much more about it, though.
The intelligent critiques of Monotheism usually point out the role of polytheism's major characters' adoption by monotheism. The Muslims have some of this in their big boat. The big boat interpreters usually conform to what we call 'fundamentalism.' The big boat gives the masses their hope, their faith in a hereafter. Their little boat carries a much more eclectic and liberal interpretation of sacred texts.
Critics blame Mohammedanism for so many problems in the middle-east. The Taliban's rigid fundamentalism has profound implications for science and ecology. I refer to the fundamentalists and fellow-travelers as the big-boat. it's hard to tell what's real and what's another spin on Western religious bigotry. For certain, the monotheism of Mohammed presents a single God consisting of pure will; personality and will become the same thing. The Divine One is an Infinite Free Will. With the God of Mohammed, an inner-directed, willful God allows for humanity's destination to follow proscribed predestination. Input into human affairs remains a secondary attribute of this God. Death comes as it comes, "It is Ahla's will." It's important to keep in mind that 'Ahla" is not the name of the Muslim God, their monotheistic godhead.
Look at their culture and find personal representations of their religious icons. We find numerical values represented in statined glass. An all powerfull, all willing godhead without identifying human characteristics. A force of Will alone drives this godhead.
God's place in the Universe as Will cannot be mentioned. This shows a powerfully reverant religion.
This Will has an arbitrariness about it, Alla's Will be done we hear as a means of coping with mass deaths. Here Will guides itself and humanity without recourse to reason and love. This gives Mohammedanism its arbitrary will, a soothing account of the cosmos for some. Mohammed teaches a unity and spirituality of God. It's important to keep in mind, what consists of a spiritual unity combines with a numeric unity in so many Muslim artifacts. We find a numerology at times; we find less of a moral unity. This God exists as an abstract spirituality. This abstraction from matter has profound implications for ecology and the fate of the earth in Muslim science."
Pete then sat quietly for a few minutes. Then he asked for water.
"The heat took some steam out of me and Jake."
I tuned in to a Flying J a few minutes later. "I need to stretch and gas up. I'll wait for you here if you want to go in and take your time. We can walk the dog here, too, if you like."
"The dog's fine. he's done in."
After filling the tank with another twenty-five gallons, I walked into the Flying J. I saw Pete leaving the men's room and attracking attention from all corners.
He did make a striking figure with his dirty long hair and towering height. Anyone with at least a dirt clod of brains would recognize him for what he was, on foot.
Jake waited for me and we walked out to the van together. He now read my "crime scene cleanup" bumper stickers and said, "Ah ha. So you do crime scene cleanup!".
"When I can, but I travel to stay in the business. I live in Orange County, California, and the Orange County Sheriff-Coroner has a monopoly over my business. It looks like I'm the only non-government related crime scene cleaner working in Orange County. That's why I don't work in Orange County. That's why I'm standing out here in the middle of the night in the middle of the desert talking with you"
Pete lauged. "Here I spend a year of living dangerously in Irag for a government that allows government employees to cheat dead people's families. It figures. Another Catch 22 because I cannot start a business like your in Orange County, correct?"
"Yep," I said.
Once on the road again, Pete began his monologue on the monotheism of the Jews.
They combined justice with Will. So, in a single personality, Moses, gives us God's justice, a guidebook to explaining what God wants. The idea of choice and doing what's right has a big place in the Jewish scheme of things and death. Righteousness gives the Jewish God a willful, other directed judgemental personality.
The Jewish books leave God outside of the world; above all as its Creator and Ruler, above all as its Judge; God becomes a non-participant observer after strong-arming his way into domestic issues among ruling Jews. Once he makes his point, that humanity kills as God commands, we see the Jewish God's role diminished.
Later, much later, John Milton comes along and tries to explain the ways of God to man. In doing so the justice theme appears. Milton's doing revolution though, usurping Rome's control. Milton's a Rennasisance thinker. He's bringing some critical ideas echoing ancient Greek ideas, even African ideas from ancient Egypt.
Mark Twain comes to mind when I think of the Jewish God as 'above' it all. Twain's agnosticism followed a Nostic explanation for another absentee god.
It's important to keep life in perspective as monotheism arose. It gave humanity an easier to manage theology. With the ideas left to us by the Greeks, especially in Africa, a more democratic approach to God seemed to make sense. The Phorohs had a monopoly on God, not unlike the Sheriff-Coroner has over crime scene cleanup. The Jews carried their own generalized God into the desert. Then the Christinas arose with their interpretations of monotheism. They etched a more democratic God than the Jew's generalized God from the desert sands.
The idea that a supreme being remained aloft when humanity needed a more democratic means of believing came with the territory. Now God emerges as an all-caring, other-directed Will lending itself to personal relationships. This would bring a revolutionary approach to Plato's realm of being. Later, Thomas Acquinas picks up this thread and the Christian God resurrects the dead into a realm of ideal forms, heaven.
Now God has a place above in the heavens while actually existing within and through humanity. We see an internal-external revolving of the "Light" that we find in "The Secret of The Golden Flower," if you allow ancient icons into monotheistic theology. This is the Christian monotheism, echoing the Zoroastrian black and white, Manichæism. Billy Grahm's heaven and hell diad, a perfect big boat for the masses. Whether or not any of these ideas actually shared the same intellectual space, I cannot say. What I believe comes from the notion that ideas sometimes need reification to posit their meaning in society. I'm thinking of Victorian England, the rise of capitalism, individualism, competition, and Darwins evolution by natural selection. It's in the air. Ya know what I mean?"
I nodded and could tell my rider had given many hours to his studies. I knew too that he had come a long way, intellectually, from force-recon. He tangled some concepts and time, but he found new ideas to help his quest.
"Judaism opposed idolatry and idol-worship, and taught that God was above all, and the maker of the world; but it conceived of God as with man, by his repeated miraculous coming down in prophets.
Now get this, iIf we get serious about political correctness, Jewish as well as Christian's do worship icons. In worshiping a monotheistic godhead in which they reflect the image of this godhead, they do indeed self-worship. In worshipping God they worship themselves, put another way, and in their own terms,"
I could see there were few ways to argue with Pete. He did his homework and then some. Why he went on and on I could not tell. I had never heard this last clame before. What would the Southern Baptists say to this "self-worshelp."?
"Plato thought about the nonsense of mortality; this life would be pointless. There's not much very worthwhile; therefore, there's got to be something better. Socrates talks about building a nest for existence The gods are there.
Plato
There's something about mortality, and if you love life, there'll be nothing of you. Nothing that remains. so what's it all about?
Twain's God: Here God has no place in our world, or at least, there's no way for anyone to know of a place for a God in our world. Twain's God could care less for humanity or this world, for that matter. In Twain's scheme of things, the monotheist God are bitter, selfish, and war-mongering neurotics. If God exists at all, there's no way of knowing this god. For one good reason, the noise of humanity's minor gods obscures what Twain's God thinks. But it doesn't matter because the real God could care less about humanity; besides there's no way we could ever hope to kow anything about God. God has no personality or other human attributes.
Work
I write for content. You'll find my most recent attempts at crime scene cleanup books. I'm doing a review of crime scene cleanup books. In that way I'll learn more about what others have to say about his business.
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