On the other hand, I'm also kinda looking forward to dying. What's been so great about being me anyway? Recognizing it as something inevitable, I'm fascinated by it and interested in venturing into the experience. That sort of tempers the fear, albeit an intellectual exercise tempering an innate, visceral reaction. In the end, I don't think it's a deep down fear.
Am I afraid of doing it myself? That would just be pathetic considering all I've written. I just don't think that's the case. I sure hope not. Am I lazy? That's actually closer to plausible. Pathetic, too, but not as pathetic as being afraid to do it myself.
Thinking all of this out, the reason I'm still here is that I'm still in the thrall of the conveyor belt of daily mundanity delivering me from day to day, distracting and fooling me into thinking there's still stuff I want to do, that I'm not done or I'm not sick of it yet. Exactly the same as a year ago and probably beyond. I just marked exactly one year of absolutely no progress between realization and action.
Great, that's just faboo that I can pinpoint that out. Now what? It goes to the old questions how did Anthony Bourdain, Shinee's Jonghyun, Robin Williams know/decide it was time? But their answers would not be mine. And my motivation isn't like theirs, maybe isn't enough. Right, that whole "looming" thing. I'd be walking the plank and I'd turn around and go "What's my motivation?!", and the pirates would *poke* *poke* me with something sharp, and only then I'd finally realize I just have to do it.
I continue to mentally prepare through mindfulness practice and meditations and visualizations. I think approaching death should be joyful and positive. Like James Earl Jones's character, Terence Mann, giggling while walking into the cornfields at the end of "Field of Dreams" (there's a very loose theory out there suggesting that Terence Mann, like Archibald "Moonlight" Graham, is already dead and was a recycled soul for purposes of the "quest" and then is being reintroduced to the death realms).
