A Short Guide to a First Death: Conclusion of The Oxygen Age.

 I write this far later than originally intended—maybe two years later. While I believe this piece belongs to the Oxygen Age, it is in such a perfect middle position that it no longer feels right to place it there. Besides, it's a befitting introduction to the Telephone and Television Age. While the main medium of this blog is supposed to be strictly audiovisual, I recognize that writing is often the skeleton of great stories told through motion and sound, and writing was the inspiration for this journey anyway. 

A Short Guide to a First Death

Dear reader, you may be falling through the big crack in the floor still, or perhaps you have already made acquaintance with death at the bottom of the well. Fear not; in any case two things are inevitable and inescapable: the terribly painful and long process of death, and the grandest of joys and reliefs in the peaceful days that follow it. Now! Do not be hasty and confuse this mercy for a permanent death; it is only a regenerative one, natural and quite healthy. Normally, you'd be lucky not to notice it at all because it should happen over many years and span most of a human's life. Unfortunately, your particular first regenerative death is a conscious one, which means—however long it may seem to you—it can only last a maximum of two to four years, and that is why you will feel it all. My condolences! Remember, do not attempt to save yourself the suffering by eliminating the flesh! Suicide defies the entire purpose of an earlier small death: survival and adaptability. This is a humble guide that may offer solace to you during this difficult period of existence, for it isn't advisable to entrust your current experience to friends and family who may confuse it for a medical crisis. Whether you've died as of late and are growing new skin already or are yet to wheeze out the last of your sorrows, you'll be good as new and just as beautiful once it is all over, if not a little too sleepy like a newborn most days. Good luck! 

Do Not Be Afraid to Die

Life forms plaster around ourselves, a stiff cocoon intended for our protection and the straightening of visible flaws in functionality. Usually, a cocoon accommodates a transforming creature, but nothing is happening inside yours—it's simply a crust.  The purpose of a little death is to crack that cocoon open to allow you a breath and, most importantly, a glimpse at the most darling of your darlings: your blank slate self. Perhaps in the blur of the present and anxiety of the future you forgot to visit little old you, who has been waiting for God knows how many days now...five thousand four hundred and five? Ideally, a blank slate self should not exist as its own separate thing beyond childhood, because it is simply a standard human being with fresh eyes and pure instinct that is meant to grow and progress through life naturally. Less ideally, since you already separated, you were supposed to bring it alongside you on your adventures of choice, but, alas, your entire life was not an adventure of choice. Hence, Self 1.0 remains outdated and tucked away like a precious and fragile treasure, while you drag its barricaded house through the dull and the uncomfortable like an idiot. Not only did you forget to wake the child up to witness the snow, but you sat through the magic unmoved and distant winter after winter. Upon making this realization, you—as a tool for the safekeeping and conveyance of the self—receive a devastating shock and suffer the initial symptoms of a little death. 

I. The Shock: 

Now you've received the tragic news: you could have been okay this entire time. First comes the curiosity; you want to assess the damage, to know how little of the blank slate self remains at all. This urge is you trying to salvage anything of your nucleus to latch onto, which would prevent your death. It's an act of desperation.  As it becomes evident that you do not possess the mental or physical capacity to be reintroduced to your self or tend to it, you are overcome with sickening shame and anger over your impotence, neglect, and shortsightedness most importantly. Your most accurate deduction would be that, up to your current position in time, your life had been one long failure and a waste of time. The Shock lasts a maximum of two weeks, as it instantly follows whatever triggered it, but can drag on for an entire month. Panic attacks that seem to ambush you out of nowhere are common during this stage: that is the body's awareness of the impending fall, and a feeble attempt at warning you. Anxiety doesn't leave you a moment of respite; you are always anticipating a terrible thing. Your days rush by in a blur, filled with disorientation and paranoia, and you wish you could hide away until this turbulence ceases. It doesn't. You have already started falling. 

II. The Death: 

Many ask: How will I know if I'm dying? It's quite simple. You will know, because the little death isn't subtle. Two processes are happening at once: the Purging, from inside, and the Cracking, from outside, leaving you to endure the incredible tension in the middle. The pull will tear you to useless bits, while the push will crush you into mush. 

The Purging intends to make space for the blank slate self by removing whatever is no longer necessary or useful; those are the parts of yourself that so kindly tended to you and helped you navigate confusing or hostile environments, and earned their place as morals and values in the map of your psyche, now being pushed out through your skin simply for having turned poisonous. Physical symptoms which may accompany the purging can include: feverish skin, soreness and a burning sensation in the muscles, nausea, a decrease in appetite, a severe lack in energy and night sweats. Additionally, a change in appearance, such as the softening of hair or definition of facial structure, may also occur. This process goes on until it meets the Cracking at its limit. 

From the other side, the Cracking prepares for the expansion and the solidification of the arriving self by destroying shields and barriers. When the new self fully surfaces, it won't need any practical declarations of its nature or purpose, and it would consider itself heedless of definition, hence needing your previous external design of identity to disappear. This process leaves no room for saving face like Purging does, and instead allows the cracks to show as oddities and inconsistencies in behavior. In more straightforward words, you may appear a mess during your intense Cracking days, and the people closest to you may notice. Physically, Cracking will be accompanied by your body's natural signs of resistance, such as headaches, toothaches, stomachaches, difficulty breathing, skin irritation, and a dull ache in your bones. Your body is revolting and deteriorating. 

All throughout your death, you will have no steady footing nor stability, so do not be fooled by the "good days". You are in an earthquake zone and underground peeks gold, you will be terrified, and then exalted; you will feel fearless and driven, and then beaten and tired beyond description. The sharp shifts in perspective and the sudden and quick mood fluctuations are the most maddening part of dying; they give birth to both a panicked urge to save oneself and a hopeless resignation. Because your body will need an outlet for the overload, your tears will appear to be coming from an infinite sulphur lake, and you will often find yourself pathetically doubled over in sobs. It is all natural. Don't fret and hang onto yourself. It is most important at this stage to remember that you are enduring the pain in order not to prolong it, and to fully feel your aloneness; it will be essential for the quality of your self's emergence and its confidence on its first few days. 

III. The Haze: 

You may have planned your suicide with certainty and are reminiscing about kinder times now. You do not see any reason to carry on and all of the beauty and tragedy of the past few months calmed down to full stillness. You forget that you have hands or that you can speak most of the time. You cling to old warm comforts, a good book or that lovely show, in hope of persisting for their sake. You feel like your room is a mere coffin, and that the air doesn't move around you. You drag the stench of nothingness with you wherever you go, and every corner you occupy gets a little duller. At this point, you are only poisoning the life around you by still being in it. Life itself, the architect of the transformation that you are oblivious to, adores you enough to dress you anew from your very own essence, to sculpt you like a vision! Somewhere, in your ears or the hollow chamber of your ribs—you don't know, echoes a relentless "I love you, I love you, I love you". You can't move; you've done your best; you are dead. Rest now. 

IV. Regeneration: 

You awake serene and a little disoriented from the Haze. You're all out of it these days, calm yet clumsy, uncoordinated like a baby. Congratulations! You survived the pain of destruction, now you must survive the pain of blossoming. It's growing pains all over again; embarrassing! Uncomfortably watching yourself take a shape that no one will be able to make out until it is finished, furiously hating the process and how unrefined and useless it leaves you. You are a disgusting bug, sprouting legs, learning how to crawl; you are the naked nestling with holes for ears. Do not get impatient; the blank slate self is now right at the middle where Purging and Cracking ended, slowly and carefully sifting through to the surface. Don't haul it away like the first time. Unlike the other parts of the process of death where you were passive, Regeneration requires your effort alongside its steady development, so take your cripple self for a brief walk and eat an apple. Be especially careful with what you expose yourself to during this sensitive period, as you are practically naked to the flesh and disturbingly soft. No matter how agonizing the sensation may get at times, do not interrupt the self as it meekly pushes through. On the bright side of things, your awakening from the Haze means that the first waves of self already washed up into you and are consistently continuing to do so. With its optimism typical of novelty, the self will accompany you and ease your suffering this time, and you are not alone like your dying self; you may even notice in yourself a profound and overwhelming contentment, unlike any previous similar feelings, in solitude at times. You may already find yourself intuitively leaning towards what the blank slate self loves, picking up a brush or longing for a mountain adventure. Physically, your body is attempting the arduous task of gaining strength to harbor the energy which will soon bountifully flow through it. This may look different depending on the person, but it generally manifests in fluctuations in weight and muscle mass, hair loss, and the swelling of the face. Remember: Regeneration isn't rebirth, it's a shedding—which is why it feels like you are being skinned alive. Nothing is being created here; you were already there. 

V. Hemostasis/Burn: 

Being torn open sure takes a toll on one. The blank slate self is finally here, but you won't get to celebrate its arrival. Your mind is finding it difficult to catch up to the new input, your presence and concentration are fleeting, and your body is worn out from the bouts of illness. You can't form complex meaningful sentences nor decipher them accurately, you may complain from blurry vision, and your motor skills appear to have regressed. On the bright side, the worst bit is over; despite all you feel serene. You are now allowed another period of rest. Sleep will be the height of luxury, the most delightful and rejuvenating of comforts, and you will be compelled to resort to it almost hourly. Hibernate away, as there is nothing else you could do anyway. 

VI. Weaving/Remodelling:

Even an incomprehensible profundity like a human life needs a simple front. When yours stitches itself together as a face, as a voice, as a visible thing, have the decency not to resent it for what it is made to do: make it known that you exist. Do not burden it by seeking refinement or chasten it by seeking hideaway. There is no such thing as a soul residing in a body, or a body being a "vessel" for something purer and higher than flesh. Subdue the cowardly excuse that you must look the way you feel inside before you begin to live. Your skin breathes under the sun, your eyes flood when they behold beauty, your heart hammers with want, your ears ache near unpleasant clamour; you are one through and through. During the Weaving stage is when it's most difficult to identify with notions and struggles from prior your death; you may only empathize with them. Although, you will recognize with clarity the fundamental elements of the blank slate self; even though it's 'new', it's most definitely familiar. Previously vague memories will sharpen in image and come alive with their original emotions. You feel safe,  sound, and whole inside your body. You will (hopefully) be introduced to a wonderful phenomenon that I like to call "Mirror Euphoria": the senseless energy that puppets children around, makes them see sounds and hear colors, happy to be around. Quite simply a joy so pure and unfiltered that it fills you uncoupled from any other emotion. This occurrence will grace your days every now and then, especially while alone. It's you being aware of your own presence and—don't be surprised—in love with it. Gradually, you will be able to access this feeling anywhere, anytime you'd like, even in the company of other people. 

While the Weaving stage has a clear beginning, the Remodelling stage is only the extension of it—what follows for years. You will not completely solidify until the blank slate self builds habits, an upfront external image, and a living environment it deems most suitable around itself. This is where all of the rest you were lucky to have comes into play; you are ready to steadily steer this new self and experiment with it. It is now your sole responsibility to live faithful to your internal compass, yet to know when to protect your true nature where it is at odds with reality. Until Remodelling is over, be brave, patient, and vigilant. 

Do Not be Afraid to Live

Dear reader, you are a weakling and washed-out excuse of a person, and you bury yourself while claiming to care for it. You must learn, if you want to carry on living, that we merit only what we seek, that victimhood does not earn one tenderness, and that we have no excuse for stillness as long as we can move. Perhaps after your little death you may no longer tolerate the incompetence that keeps you prisoner to misery. You may come to love yourself with such ferocity that it sickens you and fills you with grief to watch yourself grow incapacitated and passive. The greatest lie of the century is that love wants you comfortable; no, never! Love wants you resplendent, healthy, and glorious. You shall, in time, learn to maneuver your circumstances like water under a boulder; to manipulate the sterile dirt of your means into clay. Be thankful that you were chosen to live, to belong in the world, to be the people; and do not dishonor this miracle any further by wasting away your second breath. If you do, you add to the heap of walking corpses the earth so generously still carries, and I will never, ever forgive you. 

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