The Meaning of Death
Laszlo Makay, George Marosan Jr. and David Vatai consider whether death destroys meaning or creates it.
On the other hand, given your own inevitable existential death, how comforting is that? On par with, say, seeing it as but one more manifestation of being “at one with the universe”. Yet there are some who are in fact able to take some measure of comfort in it. I’ve bumped into them on and offline now for years. Unfortunately, it’s not like this consolation is able to be reconfigured into a pill. Swallow it, and that’s how you can feel too.
Instead, most are likely to suckle on one or another religious or spiritual path in order to not have nothing to suckle on at all. Also, those who are able to blot it all other through distractions, or actual drugs that are around to provide the sort of “high” that nothing will bother you at all.
Yes, if we were able to live forever in a No God world it would seem reasonable to me to argue that life could still be construed as meaningless. But so what? Think about all of the pleasure that you are able to derive from your body such that not having any meaning behind it is, well, irrelevant.
The food we eat. The music we love. The art that enchants us. The athletes we admire. The love that we feel. The sex that we crave. And on and on and on. Who needs meaning then? I certainly don’t.
The problem of course is this: that along with the pleasure, comes all of the pain too. So, sure, if I was unable not to live forever and the pain began to overwhelm the pleasure, that would be terrible. That’s the beauty of suicide even given the 70 odd years we have now. It’s comforting to know that it is an option if the suffering does become unbearable.