Animate

Photography by Madison McQuary

The thought of death is intimidating. Not only that. It's revealing. It is spiritual exposure.

With its glassy eyes and oily smile staring into our faces we disintegrate into our kosher selves. Its teeth polished and ivory. Lips pallid and brittle. Our garments of cotton cloth, our blankets of security, our lipstick and the powder dappled on our noses from the impulses of vanity or pride - they are all stripped away. One glance. One smirk. A single stroke against our trembling limbs and Death leaves us bare.

Threatening to caress our hearts and our bones. Daring to introduce us to Eternity. You stretch forth your arm, stomach whirling, head spinning, and you prepare to shake hands. Words melt in your mouth, but you have to say your name. You must ask, "How do you do?" and be polite. Death and Eternity exchange their cheerful hello's.

When these two linger on our doormats, every inhibition, every crush, all the tea cakes, and all the bills sitting on the coffee table are nothing. They're pebbles in our shoes.

Here, you can sense every bit of alveoli popping open in your lungs, each artery pumping blood, the billions of neurons transmitting signals, every drop of life in your body sizzling and crackling like bacon tossed in a pan.

It brushes up against us every morning, every evening. It's constantly breathing down our necks, always tickling our toes. Usually labeled "dark" and "morbid", we like to flick the channel to Sunday football and pour sugar in our tea. Don't talk about it. Whatever it is.

That's the practice. To live like there's nothing. Plenty of people probably ask themselves about death, but their minds don't walk past the shore. You pick up the remote, you turn on your phone, the music blares in your ears, and the oven beeps while the smell of casserole drifts into the room. Dinner is ready. Oprah is on.

Minds turn off. World turns on. Forget death. Whatever eternity. 70 heart beats per minute. 60 heart beats. 30 beats. None.

Savor the pulses. Live the life. Do the things. Worship God while your here, praise Him with your open lungs and your blinking eyes and your mobile tongue. He gives you the pulse, the life, the things.

We should think about death with healthy thoughts. Life comes with a refund. So live like it. Breath like it. Eat like it. Say your sorry's and your I love you's. Kiss your mom on the cheek. Toss the football with your dad. Welcome visitors when they come. Braid your sister's hair. Climb the water tower with your best friend. Sing loud during worship.

We came from dust and one day we'll return to dust.

I've wasted so much oxygen caring about what the neighbor thinks of my flower bed, or worrying about what I said to my aunt yesterday, or wearing a solid colored shirt instead of one with stripes because stripes aren't fashionable. Let's stash away our insecurities. Burn apprehensions. Crucify dysphoria. Christ died for us so that we can live.

Live well.

"I want to feel all there is to feel, he thought. Let me feel tired, now, let me feel tired. I mustn't forget, I'm alive, I know I'm alive, I mustn't forget it tonight or tomorrow or the day after that." - Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine