lauantai 24. joulukuuta 2016

The Pharaoh's Bentley

The Pharaoh's Bentley

So in 2013, one of the richest men in Brazil by the name of Mr. Scarpa (much easier to refer to him this way), announced that he would be burying in a "future" grave of his a million dollar Bentley luxury car. He had the inspiration from the ancient Egypt's pharaohs, who would be buried in their huge graves - pyramids - with their vast wealth, gifts, and utilities to be ready for them in the afterlife. So Mr. Scarpa had an inspiration, and a million dollar Bentley is not much for some.

This was naturally met with extreme prejudice and an outrage from the general public - how can somebody be so irresponsible? Waste some much money on nothing? Give it to the poor! Totally unattached to reality! Trying to evade taxes?! Etc. Mr. Scarpa appeared on multiple talk shows and similar interviews to explain his motivations and how he admired the ancient Egyptians for this grandeur, and that he had every right to do this move - and nobody can deny that from him, definitely. The media followed his steps closely as he progressed to build this structure for lowering his beloved 1,000,000$ Bentley to a final resting place, where he'd presumably eventually join it.

When it the time came for the burying of the Mr. Scarpa's Bentley, he was ready and set to go to lower the million dollar beauty to a deep pit in the ground, when he revealed the genius in his stunt. He was never going to lower the Bentley to a deep pit - instead the scolded millionaire turned to the public, turning their outrage against themselves; numerous people are buried with wealth much greater than a mundane Bentley - their organs. The whole plan of Mr. Scarpa's stunt was to promote being an organ donor, and he had himself been close to death a time ago, realizing the mortality and spending two months in coma. Possibly receiving new piece of the man's cogwheels (I'm not sure of this though but still), he had a great point to make.

The Pharaoh's Bentley is a great story and I was thinking of it tonight during insomnia, though it was much more distressing thoughts that originally kept me up. But the Pharaoh's Bentley made me think of why am I not yet an organ donor (I do donate 0- blood rather regularly, though I've been denied donor a few times lately due to anemia). We feel sacred of our bodies - what if I'm still alive when I'm being buried? In coma, just missed the pulse for a few beats and had a wrong diagnosis? In some countries, people were buried  with bells attached above their graves and a six feet rope reaching all the way to the coffin in case they were alive after all. The feeling of being accidentally killed, even if chances are extremely low, is extremely distressing.

Furthermore, we do feel that our body is a 'whole'. If I'm missing my kidneys, liver, eye(s), heart, ... it's something that was mine, was part of me on my journey, and what partly defined me - how can it be just 'installed' on somebody else? I guess this comes down to what extent we can our selves to our body just beyond the nervous system, which starting from reflexes has voluntary and involuntary functions that make us who we are. I do feel strange thinking that for example my kidney might go to somebody else. But when I think that the somebody might be a kid with a kidney disorder, it starts becoming more clear why it'd be a waste to put it down with me and let it rot. After all, I don't think anybody will deny the fact that eventually we'll be just a scrap of dust, hair and bone - religious beliefs and awkward alternatives like embalming aside. The living issue will inevitably be gone, while it could've served somebody else in very drastic ways. The Pharaoh's Bentley is a great initiative I think, I just need to overcome my own prejudices. I don't know why I remembered it today, but it's definitely worth sharing.

From dust to dust, yet it's not that simple with modern medicine.

maanantai 19. joulukuuta 2016

Dance of Hannah

[A Modernization of / Tribute to Edwin Arlington Robinson's 'Richard Cory' (1897)]

Dance of Hannah


Hannah has an idealist's heart and she loves dancing
Thoughtful of how the wounded world is worth healing
Her father an honest worker albeit strict man at times
Her mother caring but worrying over her wildish swings
Tomorrow she'd start at a new job to stand on her own
Tender smile as her family left driving to town that dawn

A brief hand-written letter left on the kitchen table
Closed the porch door companied by a sturdy cable
A woodswoman she knew the knots and setting a rope
Volunteers combing the nearby woods scarce of hope
Hannah's face by the clearing an eerie bloating blue
By the time police called 'the worst had come true.'

-TDL '16

tiistai 13. joulukuuta 2016

Island

Island

When I was a child, I locked up in my cocoon
When I was an adolescent, I had no place to be
When I was a young adult, I feared losing my self
When I grew to be an adult, I became a cogwheel

I stepped deep into the river of discovery
I cast my hand into the stream of science
I tipped my toe by the ocean of mankind
I devoured a forefinger sip and then vomited

Albeit I've never found an another soul here-in
Every night some hidden stranger within me 
Sets ablaze the lamp in the lighthouse up-hill

-TDL, Dec '16