Intimations of Mortality

 

I'm not a great fan of Wordsworth or any of the Romantic poets. His work strikes me as sappy. Whenever I think of him, I think of Bullwinkle reciting his poem about daffodils, wandering lonely as a cloud. Nevertheless I base the title of this post on the title of his poem Intimations of Immortality, substituting "mortality" for "immortality" as the former, not the latter, is on my mind.

You'd think it wouldn't be a difficult thing for us to understand that we're mortal, i.e. that we will die.  It should be obvious, and intimations therefore inappropriate or unnecessary. But we contrive to avoid thinking of it, at least, most of the time and sometimes for years. The intimations arise with age, though.  Your body gives you little reminders; sometimes big ones. Arthritis, for example; problems with eyesight, weight,  balance. Innumerable weaknesses as the organism gradually dissipates.

But we should think of it and not only when we're reminded of it's approach or are suddenly confronted with it one way or another, through the death of someone we know, for example.  So we're told by the ancient philosophers, especially the Stoics, and by their subsequent imitators.

Memento mori: remember you are mortal, and will die.  Supposedly these words or others like them were spoken in the ear of a Roman general granted a triumph by a slave riding with him in a chariot as the spoils of his victory were paraded before him.  Glory is fleeting, fame and prosperity ephemeral. In short, live as if you'll die tomorrow. Understand that those you love or value will die, leaving you alone. This is a form of Stoic practice as we see in the Roman Stoics in particular.

Such thoughts necessarily quash our self-regard and self-importance. They do the same with other "selfs" as well, like self-righteousness and self-love and selfishness in general. As Horace told us, we are but dust and shadows, no matter how much we believe we're important, significant, powerful and worthy.  It's absurd for us to expect or demand loyalty or love or obedience from others.

Sadly, past and present meglomaniacs disregard their insignificance and fail or fear to recognize their mortality.  They don't think they will die. Perhaps we may take comfort in knowing that they will, eventually.