Discourse to the Dead
Chapter IV
Time, Eternity, and Yonder
Let me calm myself down again. Think,
think... do not let Him agitate me. This thinking mind is all that I have left.
And if I yield to this very insanity, then I truly perish. But is this not a
meaningless and ridiculous condemnation? Why must I cherish this objectless
existent and fend off everything else for its undestined continuation? I can
stay calm amidst all these turbulences; but what then? Has continuation itself
become a meaning and a goal in itself? That is simply impossible, for that
lingering existent serves no purpose and is frankly irrelevant to me. My own
existence concerns me not, no, it does not. Well, if I truly perish, I would not
be there to know of it. Or do I? If I do, I do not truly perish then. So the
conscious has no reason to fear of annihilation.... But somehow, the fear
lingers.
The fear, then, cannot come from
annihilation itself. It must be from something else; it is a fear of losing
something, or the fear of some transcendental state I may end up in. In this
case, is it not clear? I do not fear annihilation, for either it does not matter
in this continual state of eternity, or that I would not know of it if it indeed
happens. The fear, I see, must be of losing the thinking self. Ah! So here lies
the answer: I am seeking a state of assurance, a state of peace where I am sure
that I will not lose my only possession: my thinking mind.
So it is clear: even in the state of
absolute solitude and darkness, there is still something I would dearly cherish
and live in fear for its defense. In this state of nothingness and void, I still
hold on tightly to my thinking mind. But what of the thinking mind brings me to
treasure it so dearly? Certainly, it serves no good, other than keeping myself
occupied and making myself aware of the state of misery and perpetual
nothingness I am in. This very bane I bear, yet an enchanting bane it is.
The surprising matter is that I am
not the only one treasuring this bane. He is also seeking it. He tried
corrupting me, tried deceiving me. And now, He uses the weapon of fear - the
fear of losing the mind itself. I would loathe to exist with the least
consciousness of my own self: I would then think no more, and hence I am no
more. All that is left of me will be a memory, and then a memory of the memory,
and finally rot in the past.
But I am, as much as I shall be, as
it was in the beginning! Let no fiend lure me to the abyss of nothingness! Out,
you demon, cast no fear on me! No, wait... anger leads the road to insanity. I
must calm down, calm down... let me think again; let me restrain myself from the
ends of fear and anger.