Death is staring too long into the burning sun and the relief of entering a cool, dark room.
Elisabeth Kubler-RossRead
I've told my children that when I die, to release balloons in the sky to celebrate that I graduated. For me, death is a graduation.
Interpretation
Death is perceived as a transition or celebration rather than an end.
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross presents a profound perspective on death, encouraging her children to celebrate it as a graduation rather than a sorrowful event. This metaphor suggests that death is a vital transition, signifying the end of one phase of life and the commencement of another, encouraging a positive and hopeful outlook toward what lies beyond.
In practice
During a memorial service, you could share this quote to remind attendees to celebrate the life of the deceased.
Death is staring too long into the burning sun and the relief of entering a cool, dark room.
The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not "get over" the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.
The simple life on the farm was everything to me. Nothing was more relaxing after a long plane flight than to reach the winding driveway that led up to my house. The quiet of the night was more soothing than a sleeping pill.
The ultimate lesson all of us have to learn is unconditional love, which includes not only others but ourselves as well.
There is no joy without hardship. If not for death, would we appreciate life? If not for hate, would we know the ultimate goal is love? At these moments you can either hold on to negativity and look for blame, or you can choose to heal and keep on loving.
We're put here on Earth to learn our own lessons. No one can tell you what your lessons are; it is part of your personal journey to discover them. On these journeys we may be given a lot, or just a little bit, of the things we must grapple with, but never more than we can handle.
The most solid comfort one can fall back upon is the thought that the business of one's life is to help in some small way to reduce the sum of ignorance, degradation and misery on the face of this beautiful earth.
In a sense, a cyborg has no origin story in the Western sense – a ‘final’ irony since the cyborg is also the awful apocalyptic telos of the ‘West’s’ escalating dominations of abstract individuation, an ultimate self untied at last from all dependency, a man in space.
My conscience is informed by reason. It's like Kant's categorical imperative: behave to others as you would wish they behaved to you.
Today I live on an island, in a house that is sad, hard, severe, that I built for myself, solitary on a sheer rock over the sea: a house that is the spectre, the secret image of prison. The image of my nostalgia. Maybe I never desired, not even then, to escape from jail. Man is not meant to live freely in freedom, but to be free inside a prison.
One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridor down which I ventured at the age of 18, in search of something I could not then define, was this, written by the Greek author Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality. That is an astonishing statement and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives. It expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world, the fact that we touch other people’s lives simply by existing.
There are too many things we do not wish to know about ourselves. People are not, for example, terribly anxious to be equal (equal, after all, to what and to whom?) but they love the idea of being superior.
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