There have been few occasions in my lifetime so far that, as a result of which, I have truly accepted my own unhindered mortality. It is a product of expanding human essence for one to protect oneself from such an acceptance, at least for long enough to fulfil the criteria of an accepted evolutionary and naturalistic life: grow, reproduce, maintain the short-term dependent lives of the offspring and then die - thus returning that which one borrowed in existence to the earth that so steadfastly recycles it.
In accepting death, it is widely (and misleadingly) thought, among those whose understanding is limited to an overview of physical earthly life, that one consequently surrenders one's ability to live in such a way that respects the brevity of earthly existence. In reality, the acceptance of death allows one to witness, in an entirely untainted light, the magnificence and glory of existence as a whole; not merely that short period of dusty awareness between birth and death, but the potential continuance of that awareness beyond a comprehendable level. Death, I suppose, is thus not something to fear, but rather one's birth into something new. Whatever that proceeding state might be is an insurmountable mystery.
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