Contemplating Death at the Edge of the Continent
I do not feel that I choose the fear so much as it chooses me.
One question, with what seemed to me a foregone conclusion, kept inserting itself into my thought process: If we are all going to die, what’s the point of life? The answer, I thought, must be that there was no point. All of our good deeds would be outweighed by all of our bad, and eventually, which would really be not too long in the grand scheme of things, we would all get into a car accident or receive a diagnosis of advanced melanoma or have a heart attack at the dinner table. During that week, I would look into the faces of people I passed on the street in my neighborhood, searching for clues of their eventual demise and whether they were in on some secret that I wasn’t. A lifelong Christian, I had no faith in anything except the ability of time to destroy us all.
Love on the MountainA Pilgrim at Tinker CreekLove on the Mountain
Love on the Mountain
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