He had lived a long life. A full life. A beautiful life. He had done all the things he had set out to do and then more. Success and failures, fortunes and misfortunes, loves and loss. In the end, their sum was a rich tapestry of meaningful experience and wonder, with a notable thread of persistent personal growth.
And now it was coming to an end. An end filled with a moderate amount of pain and suffering. The aches and pains of a frail failing existence that came with such a long life. But over the years he had built up a tolerance to such turmoil. It wouldnât last forever. He wouldnât last forever. And when the end finally came?
When it did, he wasnât sure he could really call it an end. A precise end would imply a precise beginning. Like everyone else he knew, his life was really more of a middle. The beginning was hazy, unfocused, and highly contextual even to himself. A blur of confusion born out of that veil of childhood amnesia, and beyond that⌠what?
But for one brief moment, he did finally understand. Understanding isnât really the best word for it, really. Profound realization might be better, but that would imply an encapsulation of reality. As though one could fit the heavens in oneâs head.
Who needed a head? Who needed a body? What is a who anyways? Ah, at this point Iâm sure youâre thinking âego dissolution,â right? No better model for ego death than death itself, eh? But, no. No comforting benign labels. No grand model. No overarching meta narrative. No narrative at all.
âOh, I see, this is itself a meta narrative.â
Youâre still looking for answers. You want to know. What happened to him? The problem is I canât tell you. Itâs not that I donât know. The author of this story might not, but I do. But I am the âIâ beyond all eyes. Beyond all words. What happened to the old man? Something wonderful. Something awful. Something awe-full.
It cannot be described. It defies description. As much as you might want it neatly packaged up, so you can unpack it and look it over from the outside⌠thatâs not going to happen. You might as well explain to an amoeba how⌠well, there we are in the territory of analogies again. Nothing, everything. Another world, reincarnation, transmigration, disintegration, resurrection, death, life, love, beyond.
Do you still want to know what happened? The transcendent fate of some random nondescript fictional character? Maybe look in the mirror.
See him there? Maybe he is a she or something else entirely. You people and your labels. Didnât I already tell you it was beyond words?
Okay, Iâll give you a couple of words. Read into them whatever youâd likeâŚ
THE END
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