It wasn’t thought, more a flash of insight. Not insight. Fear. And it lasted for just a moment. It took longer to wrap words around it and present it to my mind. What if there’s more? There can’t be more. I wasn’t afraid of dying, I was afraid of living beyond death.
I felt panicked in that instant, simultaneous with the non-thought. A flash of panic. I might not be done when I’m done. I might have to go on…and on. I couldn’t bear the enormity of that possibility. What if there’s no end? What if I wake into another world?
I need rest, I thought. Oblivion. The end of all things me. I don’t want this consciousness to continue. I want to be free of it. From all of it. This life alone is more than I want. Please don’t make me live another.
I wonder sometimes whether I will panic when actually faced with death. Will I regret these feelings then? Will I wish for more time here? Will I fear annihilation? Or will I, as in that moment, fear that there’s more and cling to the familiar, unable to let go of mortality, the promise of an end, the not knowing. At least in this life we can hope for that final day. We know we are finite creatures, here then gone. As long as we are truly gone. I want no traces left of this being. I’m not strong enough to continue. I crave rest. True rest. No thought, no being, no consciousness.
And yet…I talk to my dead parents as though they still live in some form. I call on angels to help me when I’m afraid or need a good parking spot. I think about my higher self and wonder about my soul’s purpose. I read and read and read, hoping to find answers to the mysteries of life. Why do we exist? What other life exists in the universe? What other dimensions? Are we alone or just lonely? Is spirit real or fiction? What do the stars tell us about our lives? Why should we care?
It wasn’t a thought and it took less than a moment. It was a feeling, a flash, a moment of odd panic. I don’t know why I feel so tired of life.