^ I love your response, slappy! Thank you!
About the concept of a creator: I've always thought that believing in a benevolent supernatural being who cares about everyone would be very comforting.
If I *could* believe in such a benevolent universe, I would, because it would probably make me feel a greater sense of optimism and peace during life and less agitation about the eventual losses and death!
I've found, though, that I can't make myself believe something I don't believe.
Because I believe that human love is all that marks a death or birth, I try to compensate for the absence of a deity in my worldview by striving to be loving. For example, I wish we could create a little heaven on Earth, since that is the only existence I am assured we (chickens and humans alike) will have.
Thank you for telling me I've made a positive change in you. You encourage me to think about issues more, too.
* * *
Thinking about religious beliefs and their possible benefits reminds me of how I coped with my dad's dying process last year as an atheist: I wrote very honestly about my sad feelings about my dad and his decline. I also tried to honor and acknowledge my dad's life and the losses he was experiencing by showing him I cared about him, and by talking openly with him about his regrets, accomplishments, hopes, and fears.
My dad was an atheist like I am and believed when life is over, it is over. He fought very hard to stay alive!
I wrote the song "Mayday" for my dad in February 2012. At the time, I debated whether or not to give him the lyrics. I didn't want to upset my dad by describing what I saw in his future. Yet I also wanted to be honest with him about my concerns.
After some internal debate, I decided to share the lyrics with my dad because my desire to be honest won out over my fear of upsetting him. I'm glad I did. I remember watching him read the lyrics at his office chair in February. He smiled a little as he repeated the words, "present descent." I think he liked the rhyming!
Later that month, I played part of the violin part for him, hoping he could tell me what chords I was using, because I know only minimal music theory while he knew everything! I was glad I at least got to play part of the violin part for him, because I didn't finish the recording of the whole song in time for him to hear it.
* * *
“Mayday” by Erica
Calm before the storm,
then squall, and child, you’re borne
by life out to sea,
no control, you’re spiralling,
your happy past
no guarantee it would last.
Can’t hold fast.
You call emergency.
Your capsized quality
of life is sinking,
your options shrinking
as memories and pleasures cease
to release you and bring relief
from your present descent.
Once I hoped when it’s time to die
the misery would make me cry in anguish,
for I wished to know
when death arrives, I’d want to go.
Oh foolish desire to suffer and tire.
(Cadenza)
You struggle in the waves.
Now all that I can say is
I’m sorry you have to live through this,
I’m sorry we’re both helpless this Mayday
when no worship will save you
and no spring will renew health and youth
as you’re drowning
I wish you calm, not this frustration,
I wish you ease, no more aggravation,
I wish you love
as your culmination.
* * *
Finally, in honor of my dad, I'll post his favorite piece of music that he enjoyed hearing in the last 6 months of his life:
Bach, The Well Tempered Clavier, Book II, Prelude No.11 in F Major BWV880.
My dad felt this song sounded beautifully peaceful, like water trickling downstream.
After my dad could no longer use the computer, I used to play his iPod through its speakers so that he and I could enjoy his favorite Bach music while walking around the house together to get exercise. Sometimes my dad would use the walker, but he hated it because stooping hurt his back, and so sometimes to help him stand up straighter I would offer my shoulders. My dad would hold onto my shoulders with his hands and walk slowly behind me as we made circles through the house...kitchen to living room to dining room to kitchen.
Now hearing Bach music like this song reminds me of all the slow fall days and evenings my dad and I spent together as he gradually lost the ability to walk around the block, and then walk down the alley, and then stand, and then finally, on his final night and day, get out of bed.
He had to suffer many slow losses and excruciating pain along the way. Along with the physical pain, it distressed my dad greatly that his cognitive abilities were dwindling due to chemotherapy, since he had always had great pride in his mental capabilities.
During the last two hours of my dad's life, although he was unconscious as best we could tell, I put his earphones on his ears so that he could listen to Bach, as was his routine before going to sleep in the evenings.
After he died, I checked to see how far he would have gotten in the music, had he heard it. He died before getting to his favorite piece. Such is life. But while my dad was alive, he enjoyed this music very much, and for that I am thankful:
J.S.Bach - The Well Tempered Clavier: Book II: Prelude and Fugue No.11 in F Major - S. Richter - YouTube