Here’s how the story ends. Not my story, not A Kick in the Gurus, I mean the story. Here’s how the story ends – in a coffin. For you, for me, for everything that’s alive, the end result is death. That’s what you get for being alive.  Call it the prize, if you like, probably ironically. Call it the cost. The cost of life is death.

You turn up here – don’t blame me, or the universe, you’re on your own with this one. See, we share an end, but not at the same time or in the same way. I have no idea what it’s like for you to die, nor you me. Shit, i may not even have a clue how it feels when I die and ditto for you. You need to be alive to experience anything, right? So how are you going to experience death? You’ll be dead.

This shit isn’t even far out. Epicurus said it a couple of thousand years ago.

If I am, death is not. If death is, then I am not.

Why should I fear that which can only exist when I do not?

It kind of makes every worry you have a heap of shit. Unless you have real worries of course, in which case I’m sorry for talking out of line.

But…

What do you make of it?

I think I get this way around the time it’s time to go back to work as a teacher.

I’m in a pattern of teach, holiday, holiday ends so think about this kind of stuff ‘cos going back into class is a kind of death of freedom. Don’t get me wrong, I love teaching. But it’s still a bit like dying. My life will be given over to the class, to the school, for the next nine months full of 50 hour weeks. It’s how it is.

But what do you with this Epicurus stuff? Let me know.

2018, London