' I don't believe in God....
….but I miss Him’. So begins Julian Barnes' recent book ‘Nothing to be Afraid Of’ which I am now reading. Influenced by his admiration for the French pastoral writer Jules Renard, the book is an uncompromising look at the inevitability of death, a subject which in these postings we have evaded until now. Barnes insists that his book is not an autobiography but instead a tapestry of memory and reflection with constant references to his immediate family and in particular his older brother, and always with the recurrent theme of his own attitude to death.
The brothers talk to each other about their shared experiences from earliest days. When you are young, Barnes says, memory is an immediate experience, but as an adult we are affected by approximation, fluidity and doubt. When we are older we start to recall lost segments of childhood which become more vivid than those of our middle years. Its an experience which I recognise as my own.
Julian Barnes says that he has a fear of death and insists that it’s a rational fear whereas when people believed in God (he assumes no one still does), at least you could ‘negotiate’ death. God could be moved from being the Vengeful One to the Infinitely Merciful One. You can’t do the same with death. ‘Death can’t be talked down, or parlayed into anything; it simply declines to come to the negotiating table…it is impervious to insult, complaint or condescension., death never lets you down, remains on call seven days a week, and is happy to work three consecutive eight-hour shifts’.
Barnes maintains –as far as I have read – this light, ironic, teasing style, and yet behind the mask, there seems to be a real anxiety about an ending to his life compared to the certainty which he assumes people of faith possess. As you get older. this counterpoint between personal faith and facing the ultimate end to your life becomes inescapable. I am a bereavement counsellor. Being with people who find it hard to adjust to the death of a loved one, I can’t escape from thinking at the back of my mind, about my own.
I have been trying to be honest with myself. Where I am fearful – or apprehensive – is the manner of my death. Like everyone else I don’t want my life to end with a whimper or in great pain or in mental confusion. I want it to be tidy and conclusive, an end which marks – for me – an interesting life where there was work to be done, people to love and to be loved by, and a community of faith to belong to. But of course the ending can’t be arranged, but an acceptance of its inevitability can. And I think – I may be kidding myself – I am fairly calm about that.
Bryan
The brothers talk to each other about their shared experiences from earliest days. When you are young, Barnes says, memory is an immediate experience, but as an adult we are affected by approximation, fluidity and doubt. When we are older we start to recall lost segments of childhood which become more vivid than those of our middle years. Its an experience which I recognise as my own.
Julian Barnes says that he has a fear of death and insists that it’s a rational fear whereas when people believed in God (he assumes no one still does), at least you could ‘negotiate’ death. God could be moved from being the Vengeful One to the Infinitely Merciful One. You can’t do the same with death. ‘Death can’t be talked down, or parlayed into anything; it simply declines to come to the negotiating table…it is impervious to insult, complaint or condescension., death never lets you down, remains on call seven days a week, and is happy to work three consecutive eight-hour shifts’.
Barnes maintains –as far as I have read – this light, ironic, teasing style, and yet behind the mask, there seems to be a real anxiety about an ending to his life compared to the certainty which he assumes people of faith possess. As you get older. this counterpoint between personal faith and facing the ultimate end to your life becomes inescapable. I am a bereavement counsellor. Being with people who find it hard to adjust to the death of a loved one, I can’t escape from thinking at the back of my mind, about my own.
I have been trying to be honest with myself. Where I am fearful – or apprehensive – is the manner of my death. Like everyone else I don’t want my life to end with a whimper or in great pain or in mental confusion. I want it to be tidy and conclusive, an end which marks – for me – an interesting life where there was work to be done, people to love and to be loved by, and a community of faith to belong to. But of course the ending can’t be arranged, but an acceptance of its inevitability can. And I think – I may be kidding myself – I am fairly calm about that.
Bryan
posted by Euroresidentes at 10:10 AM
3 Comments:
Hi, Bryan, I'm back. I lost you for a few months. I wish you could just send out your writings automatically.///I believe in God; I just don't know what God is. And that does make dying and death a little more difficult, I grant. But I almost died about 40 years ago (bad car accident). And once the pain goes away -- and it does just before death -- dying is a euphoric experience. I didn't see a white light, etc. But I remember how I felt to this day. And, for better and worse, I lost my fear of death. Dying is another story. I've worked and volunteered in hospitals and private homes off and on for the past 20 years. Dying can be a bad experience, especially here in The US where we don't adequately medicate for pain (after all, we don't want the terminally ill patient to get hooked on drugs -- what a crock). I'm a little afraid of dying, regardless of how long it takes -- afraid enough that I have a son in Oregon, where assisted suicide is legal, and I'm going there when I am pronounced with a terminal disease. But as far as death itself -- I've had a good life, albeit far from an easy one, and altho' I don't know how to explain it, I know that my joy and gratitude for life has a lot to do with my not being afraid of not being here anymore.
Also, James Hollis, a certified Jungian analyst here in The US, just wrote a book called "What Matters Most." I think everyone over the age of 40 should read it. In fact, any time before marriage might not be bad. Anyway, I've been a quasi-'Jungian' all my adult life, and, now, in my early 60s, this book has given me a new lease on life.///Keep writing. I'm so glad I found you again. Hope you are doing well. Fran, New Mexico, USA
Thanks so much,Fran: your relections are so helpful. I AM doing well; amd it seems you too.
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