The deep pain that is felt at the death of every friendly soul arises from the feeling that there is in every individual something which is inexpressible, peculiar to him alone, and is, therefore, absolutely and irretrievably lost.
~Arthur Schopenhauer
For Michael.
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I do think that the pain associated with a loss of a friendly soul is totally about losing a piece of ourself.
I don’t think it has as much to do with the loss of the person, it’s the part of us that will never be active again that the person we’ve lost occupies.
I also think that the ability to empathize which is so active in Progressives, is about the feeling that we would have if we were to lose that piece of ourself as someone else obviously has.
yes. because i can’t fathom it. my brain won’t allow me to accept it. not really.
it’s a trick. this death thing. this nothingness. there must be a way back. that’s what i think. when she died. i thought, i can change this. there must be someway to change this. because i couldn’t understand or accept or believe she was and is, therefore, absolutely and irretrievably lost.
sorry.
the individual something, the combination the roll of the DNA the soul. The strange part the real loss is collectively we lose that important piece of the whole as well as the unique and strange presence that was this person this friend this lover, this what ever. Where does it go this unique soul? So hard to grasp even if you believe that nothing is ever lost, this individual manifestation of life is gone and nothing will replace that. So sorry Jay.
as well as that of Michael’s loved ones.
I read that comment in the light of my friend Pat, who died a couple of years ago. And I still feel the irretrievable loss of her presence in the world.
Where else can you find anyone else who has even heard of Schopenhauer? I first came across Schopenhauer’s work back in high school (I was totally buggy over Nietzsche, which led me naturally to Schopenhauer). That quote reminds me of that great, deep, true, sad quote from Sam Beckett:
“They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more.”