Death and tv

Watching a BBC programme about death; photographs of people, taken right after they died and about prettying up the deceased before family members see them. The taboo of death, in short.
It doesn't scare me as much anymore.
It's really interesting actually, now they talk about preferations and how those are taboo as well, against the law et cetera. I'd like to have a Viking's funeral, if it is what I think it is; being pushed out into the sea on a wooden raft with flowers and all that, and then set ablaze, burning, lighting up the night sky. Beautiful. Or picked by vultures on a mountain peak, but I'm guessing that's even more unlikely to be allowed (and not even remotely possible in the flat countryside of Holland, do we have vultures here? I don't think so).

Maybe my fear of death has lessened because I almost got killed, I escaped death and felt it couldn't be my time yet because I hadn't written my book yet. Before that's done, I can't be going anywhere.

The programme came on after a movie about a family trying to cope with a son's suicide. Always appreciate it when they're not afraid to put some humour into the mix. Next week there's a theme night on suicide, which is also very interesting.
I still don't like corpses though, animals or people. They're so clearly not there anymore, and the empty shell is ugly, no matter how much make-up they put on them (which I don't want to be put on me after I die, since no-one would recognise me).

There must be a connection between ego-death and no longer fearing physical death. I know what's being written about it, but I want to make sure for myself.
I have been practising doing the right thing for some time now, with increasing 'succes', by which I mean ease. I want to do the right thing, the motivation is there, it comes from the heart, not from law or society.
Hell, I did plenty wrong and I'm not sorry about it either, since I always did the best I could at the time.
But anyway, I stopped doing what I thought I was supposed to be doing, feeling, thinking et cetera, according to some mysterious unwritten laws and started to ask myself, what's right? What's the right thing to do or say in this situation? Intuition or heart would speak up in the empty space I created by asking the question.
Things get easier and lighter like that, apart from the ridiculous amount of heartbreak I still feel for my ex, which probably has a purpose of it's own, since it's not going anywhere any time soon, goddammit.

I'm going somewhere with this.
Right.

It makes things lighter and it's starting to be so that I don't regret what I do. Didn't regret that much before, but more, and listening to the voice that tells me what's right is lifting the weight off my shoulders and heart (apart from the ridiculous amount of well, you know).
Despite everything that's 'wrong' with my life; on the surface, to people who 'have it all' I must seem like a sad, poor, traumatised hermit, in fierce denial of the deplorable conditions I'm living in, But. Despite everything, the weight I've been carrying around all my life is slowly lifting, and if I was told I'd only have a couple of years to live, I wouldn't do anything differently.
And you know what? That's what makes the fear die, and it makes me live. That's why, in my humble opinion, I've been experiencing moments of quiet peace lately. Cos I want to do the right thing and that leaves no regrets.
Not there yet of course, as I said earlier, I'm no frigging saint. But, at a snail's pace, I am getting there, slowly but surely. Even with a hand tightening around my throat my goals for my life didn't change, so I don't need to change direction like some people do. At least that's a load off. I'm on the right track, whew.

And I'm working hard on the patience thing, I'm still scared of just feeling the pain and hurt without numbing it with tv, food or books. Gotta just let it be, wait it out, even the ridiculous amount... yeah.

I'm not afraid of death. I fear the process of dying though; I've always disliked physical pain and hyperventilating and to experience excruciating pain while choaking on my own blood, or slowly emaciating until my lungs collapse, well, not looking forward to that.
But death itself, the end of my life? No. Funny, when I was still heavily contemplating suicide (when I was young and didn't know there was such a thing as reincarnation, boy that sucks when you want to die) at the time I was very scared of death and dying, it was on my mind constantly. In a bad way, cos I think about it a lot now as well, but from and with a whole different perspective, a peaceful and accepting perpective.
Now if I could see life that way!
Patience, M, patience...

I'm thankful for this opportunity. Writing, writing, writing, getting it off my chest (without any family reading along (if you are; f*** off!!)) really does make me feel better. Not in a pain-avoiding way, but in a sense of aaahh... warmth spreading through my chest. A bit of peace.
The internet is great.