Lately I've noticed something strange happening to my self-preservation instinict. Although I've never wanted to die in an unpleasant way, of course, I've never really feared death itself. It's funny to me that most religious people (who presumably believe in an afterlife) are so afraid to die. I just think of it as ceasing to be, not the Great Beyond or some unknown state of being. To my way of thinking, it is the opposite of being. I also think reincarnation is probably a part of it, but I don't think any single consciousness is preserved intact.
Anyway, my point in all this is pretty simple: For the first time in my memory, I'm sad at the thought of dying. Not really afraid of it, but sorrowful in thinking I might die before getting to do all the stuff I want, seeing places in the world I haven't yet, or generally missing out on the living stuff. I can't tell where this comes from. I also feel happier than I have--maybe ever. I'm generally a very content person, not patient with people around me who may be unhappy or dissatisfied with a world of their own making. (I usually think this is a result of choices or personality, both of which are under individual control, so it's hard to feel sorry for unhappy people. Feel free to disagree, but you likely won't persuade me.)Interesting to ponder the sorrowful side of happiness. Unhappiness doesn't really have a flip side, though.
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