Friday, 8 July 2016

When people speak of death being near they tend to mean in time..

When people speak of death being near they tend to mean in time. For me it's a question of space. Like living in a house near a cliff edge.  It is not an expectation that death will come soon. It is already there, like the cliff edge; or better still, like the sea; or better still like the dark shore across the waters. Living in sight of it quickens the pulse. We are always quickened and sharpened by the presence of a limit. A place where one thing ends and another begins. It is always better to live here, at this limit. For this limit always changes things. A life lived in the presence of its outer-limit, death, will be a different kind of life, a truer life, a more intensive life. It has nothing to do with "living like there's no tomorrow", in the fast lane, consuming a ticklist of pleasures. The opposite is true. You are slower; your senses are more receptive, you are happy to watch the snowflake melt.  You are slower because quietly amazed, and amazed not by the flash and the bang and the whizz but other things ordinarily imperceptible, the church bells sunk underwater. Living in proximity to the cliff edge, the sea, the dark shore means having new senses, new eyes, new flesh... And time is ripe like fruit on the tree

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