On Death, On Laughter

Death inspires awe. Many stories and novels depict the grim reaper as a cold and merciless figure, taking people away in a single night.

Death also has speed.

Some die in an instant, unconscious in an explosion.

Some die in a brief but agonizing blaze or suffocation.

Some watch death draw nearer day by day—not wanting to die yet knowing the time is close, wanting to die immediately but unable to do so.

Death is full of emotion.

About others and the self:

In the process of a slow death, the self carries feelings interwoven with those of others.

In interactions, these feelings are never fully revealed, but cannot be completely hidden either.

After leaving, what remains is others’ grief for the self.

The self has died, yet exists in others’ memories.

This one-way emotional presence allows life, even after its breaking point, to keep extending into other forms of living.

Bitterness and sweetness, the seasons turning—they become the life of others.

About society and the self:

Some rejoice at others’ deaths, feeling righteous satisfaction: “Good. That enemy is finally dead.”

Some take on responsibility for others’ deaths: “Terrible. This regime supports killing.”

The self has died, yet exists in others’ conflicts.

This one-way projection allows strife, even after its breaking point, to keep extending into new political forms.

Joy, anger, sorrow, and delight—

left and right, red and blue—

they become the battleground of others.

Death and laughter are full of tension.

Laughing at another’s death can be a sign of the lowest level, but also of the highest realm.

The easier choice is indifference.

That laughter and death can coexist is itself an expression of relationship.

Laughter can be an act of domination, overriding the presence of tears;

but laughter can also be a remedy, honoring that tears once existed.

To laugh at death might be the violent act of tearing down the sacred statue of death,

or might be the humanizing fuel that softens death’s coldness.

I want to write a book on the contradiction between death and laughter.

I haven’t yet decided what topic or theory to use.

But understanding the multifaceted nature of this perception, these relationships, these processes—

perhaps that is one kind of reflective art that sociology can offer to life.