My research on the Internet to prepare for death ended here, on these electronic pages of a modern Seneca, written with sparkling and colorful translations from Latin into Italian, background and various other advertising sites that has nothing to do, unless you advertise an insurance company next to De tranquility minds, hiding a relationship that my limited mind does not make me guess.
Seneca. I picked this author, this book is that the past once in high school, out of obligation, and then another university, take an exam. I read and reread and found inside Hence the key to understanding prepare to die and I noticed with astonishment that everything had already been written, that everything we've read and why, indeed, why did not we darling? Eleven understood. I took it with me, late this afternoon, Frank and started reading. "My speech is aimed at those who are far from perfect, mediocre, still sick, not wise."
Did you find a text that speaks of us just smiled at me Francis, are now ready for listening.
"He does not have to walk carefully, step by step, because it has so much confidence in himself that he does not hesitate to face his destiny, nor never will sell in front of it. Nor should fear him, because among the things considered not only the poor slaves, wealth and social position, but even his body, his eyes, his hands, making it more expensive when all his life, even if that puts it among the poor things, and live as if its existence was on loan, ready to return it with no regrets, the first request. "
Well, how about Francis, already quite clear that "the boy", do not you think? that existence as on loan, that difficult concept to understand the contemporary secular society where some pundits thought the town are also expressed claiming that they are masters of their own lives. Today, the concept of loan is really hard to be digested, unless you're talking about banks and bank interest. Also lend things to friends expecting maybe a bottle of Chianti to return from the trip. But not only. Ready to give it back, no regrets, the first request. This was the first request or how many it had already passed? Francesco memories, that time of your accident, when suddenly you found yourself sitting by the roadside to watch un'accartocciata sheet like your car, fuming, in the middle of the lane and you incredulously and wonder: What am I doing here? You were ready that day to return your life on loan? But that was the first call or just un'avvisaglia?
"What what's wrong to return to where you came? He will live ill who will not die well. One must be able to devalue this life and put it between the trivial things. "
" He will live ill who does not know a good death. Stop for a moment, George. Indeed, let us pause about what this phrase means? "
It took just a long pause before resuming the conversation: what did he mean?
"You make me feel like playing in Latin?" He asked.
you kidding me? Want to get in trouble? He smiled. Male
uiuet quisquis nesciet well
died She stayed suspended for a while ', already translated and therefore easy to understand, literally speaking, but who knows because in Latin it sounded even better, stronger, more definitive and dramatic at the same time very reassuring.
"Often we die for the fear of death ...." There
written yet. Fear of dying. We all, or no, dear reader, you are at this point in the book. Are you afraid to die today? Or how to die? Death, this taboo in our society. Forgotten and ignored, shunned and maximum spectacularized. You die like the great Ayrton Senna: the rest is death. It 's something that does not concern us. And we're crazy in saying this, in thinking, because of the Seine there is one, the rest is all of us.
And then continues with a Seneca great central thought of the whole chapter and all our thoughts. We read it together in one shot, while still images of the death of Ayrton flow in our thoughts.
"Who is afraid of death will never do anything truly worthy of a man, but he is aware that death was fixed for him at the time of conception will live according to this law and in addition will fail with the same strength of 'mind, to achieve the result of never being surprised anything can happen. "
Who is afraid of death will never do anything truly worthy of a man. Of course I did not use the proper Seneca uncertain terms. So, dear friends, if the application for first you have answered, like me, yes, I'm afraid of death, you know, we know that we will never make anything of worth as human beings.
But what he said again and extraordinary Seneca? How many times have we, Francis, we have stopped saying, well, die just because we were born. Then it is a matter of time and of ways: first who, after those, who in a motorcycle accident, sickness and those who through age, peaceful, putting on his last cigar in his mouth. But the style of death, we never thought. Think that death is inscribed in us from conception should cheer, says Seneca, should help us live all as a natural fact and accept it. Accept. What a dirty word today. But what does this life with me? Already asked me to restore itself trying to convince me that it was only on loan, but who I asked this loan? In most do not even know if it is a loan in the medium or long term, that is all we are given the same life but someone is already applied when it is still in the womb of her mother, dying crushed under the collapse of the elementary school during the first motorcycle ride, ride to high school before graduating, leaving for the honeymoon, the birth of their sixth grandchild, after seeing a hundred candles. It 'just that? There appears to be correct, sir decide that all this huge disparity? And I should I accept it? I, who live in a society that is unable to accept the smaller impairments, diseases so that eliminates the disease are not cured by abortion but by removing the children with disabilities? That I study science, a science that wants to be perfect and that is powerless before death and then tries to leave or possible aberrant human being inflicting pain, here is the aggressive treatment, or under the guise of pretending to be masters themselves but also the shortening can be said to have suffered death, but not chosen, but who do you think of cheating, my dear doctor. Accept your limits for a better life is perhaps reluctantly learn to live with one or passively?
It takes a lifetime, I think, to answer these questions but more peaceful than I saw Francesco able to point out some of my rumination with ironic smiles too worried. I saw him clear, he, lying on hospital bed and not me, good or bad, I had more perspective on life.
"It 's just that the teaching, dear George, and here you're wrong. Are you sure you tonight to return home? "
Obviously I tried to reach with both hands and my private parts for the debts of spells.
"Keep your hands up, stop right. Do not joke about these things. That 's what we're saying Seneca. Dear friend, you get out of here tonight and make a step and you're ready- in Purgatory before me. I was upset by a beast happen if something like "Why
friend?
"Why? Because this time playing in front of me, for the first game and I do not owe me steal, as usual, the place just to prove that you're the first, ok? "
Yes, just do not get angry, I will gladly leave, this time, I I am the trimmer.
"That's good. You see, I do not think it's a matter of time. The life of everyone time to prepare to die and thus to live well. I do not know, but I feel that these words are true and that's what we said the other day, I thank this disease because it leaves me a little ' time to prepare. You, you need to begin now to prepare yourself otherwise you will take unprepared. "
What did he tell me my friend, I did not know exactly. I just know that that evening the 12 km route that separate her from my bed with the utmost caution, also stopping at yellow traffic lights, a habit that a little 'is being lost. Also carefully kept the safety distances, both hands on the wheel, do not smoke during the trip and even I went to the shop windows along the Varese to notice changes in our society. I stopped on the highway bridge to spy inside the old cemetery, hundreds, perhaps thousands of candles, and then thousands of people now dead. Here are my grandparents died when still I was little, here Tiziana fall from a bicycle, then I think Maurice is in that area there, the lower one, and my Uncle enclosed in there with all its teachings, here is Stephen, who was also taken away by passion, the motorcycle, here they are Martha and John, killed in flight to Copenhagen, but only direct to the moon of honey. Here is the father of my friend and he, with his soul and his shadow always there to ask why and do not even remember how many more years have passed. Here's Rosie, the tiny newborn who lived only two hours, but thanks to so many of her others. And then there ... so many others. The lights of the cemetery with the contrast of light to travel by car in Bergamo from there: here red lights and white lights. But listen a bit ', grandparents, uncles, friends, Maureen, Stephen, listen a moment. I'm here, I see. Hey! I am, I see. Hear me, answer me. Tell me if you knew that death was a promised feast time and date for the prize. Tell me if you know that life there was only on loan. Tell me if you have accepted all this?
(from Elle's friend with a case of George Gibertini)
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