Day 171 - No sympathy for the devil

 

In a couple of weeks, it will have been six months since my brother died.

I had to go to a hospital again yesterday. While in a waiting room (where the walls are saturated with the memory of people’s anxieties), I overheard two women chatting. They talked about how difficult it must be to work in the NHS, one of them talked about the importance of not complaining (effectively complaining about those who complain) and the other made a comment about death.

“I’m not afraid of death,” she said, “When it comes, it comes.”

(I thought she was going to quote Woody Allen’s reported quip, “I’m not afraid of death, I just don't want to be there when it happens.”)

I’m never quite sure how to react when someone says they are not afraid of death. In some ways I’m always a little bit doubtful that they are telling the truth. I am afraid of death, but at least I am brave enough to admit that. I’m afraid of everything ending and what may happen after death (as I have said before, I have doubts about my eternal destination).

The two women finished their chat and seemed less anxious for it. Maybe this person simply did not fear death. Maybe some people just aren’t afraid of it. Or maybe they are full of misplaced bravado. I don’t know.

The hospital seemed functional, but as ever, the NHS staff looked overworked and troubled – not helped by the lack of support from central Government. No wonder the NHS make so many mistakes.

Last year I had a conversation about fear and anxiety with my brother. He agreed that often it feels like it doesn’t come from within and that it can even be orchestrated by those with power. During the pandemic I noted that there was such a sense of fear, and to be honest, I felt that the source of a lot of that fear was sinister. It turned out, we know now, that the Government wanted to (as they secretly put it), ‘scare the pants off everyone’, to keep us controllable. I think the WhatsApp messages which revealed this will be forgotten in a few years’ time, but it is such a scandal that it turned out to be our own Government who wanted us to be scared. And who can say that much of the fear we still often feel after the pandemic is not orchestrated by them?

It might be wise to see that fear is probably not going to go away any time soon. Fear is real. Too real for some of us…

A person may say something like: “You don’t fear death, you fear life!”

I’m never quite sure what to do with that one. Maybe there is a kernel of truth in it. But I’m pretty sure that the fear of death doesn’t help us to enjoy life. I fear death. And torture. Sharks. And repeats of the horror film ‘Event Horizon’. I don’t think that’s so unusual. I’m not sure I fear life. I don’t think I do. Hard to say, isn’t it?

What I find helpful for fear is breathing exercises and simply acknowledging that the fear is there and waiting for it to recede. As the black ring I now wear on my right hand reads, ‘This too shall pass’.

It is a nod to King Solomon who needed a ‘magic’ ring which would lift him during times of depression (and conversely keep him grounded during rare (for some of us) times of elation or joy). The worst is when the only choice is to endure something. Dutch courage can help, but for personal reasons I’m having to steer clear of that (and other things). I am of the kind who cannot always do things in moderation (and have the history to prove it).

My brother agreed with me when we spoke about it – that it is such a scandal that a Government can play on people’s fears, get found out for doing so, and STILL carry on doing it. It is something that should be at least noted and witnessed. And ideally changed. I miss those conversations. I miss my brother.

So, there is something very sinister about it all as far as I am concerned.

Aside from God, some of us do have a spiritual enemy, you know? And it’s not Putin - Russia is not the author of all our pain.

I can assure you… I have no sympathy for the devil.