Each Life And Death Is Meaningful

Teenagers killed in the West Bank, Iraqi soldiers executed in a ditch by ISIS, crucifixions, Ebola, and echoes of the Holocaust as we discuss Sidney Lumet's The Pawnbroker and the film Night And Fog; we have all inherited the Holocaust.
Like all things stressful, we strive to forget the horror.

We are in the re-creation of our known universe - all of us, not just scientists and physicists. We are the Manhattan Project of the Future, carrying out our lives in unimaginable conditions of concentration camps where every move is suspect.
We move back and forth over the dead and mutilated corpses of millions of the murdered in our unending travels of daily life that reconstitute the world and then the universe according to a future iconography that we - the blind - cannot even guess what it may look like.

Three teens killed; all three are infinite. A hundred Iraqi soldiers lined up and shot; each dead soldier is a universe....

I wrote the other day
http://fatherdaughtertalk.blogspot.com/2014/06/follow-astral-road.html

... I looked at my left hand, which was resting under the lamp next to the computer. I seemed to sense that the quantum particles - atoms, molecules, and all the body parts no larger than an alderman's ring -  could act detached as they were getting ready to leave their Lover, this paramour, the Self of more than 70 years cognition, faith, fear, hope, and striving;  filling their minute minds with memories of passionate penetrations into the body, in order to remember in the vasty future.

There was a terrible Love going through the small space enclosed by that left hand... terrible in the sense of awesome.

Traditionally we think of the soul leaving the body, but I saw the body leaving the soul, and the quanta of existence were filled with the pathos of parting.

The concept of soul limits us and makes us small. We belong in the vastness. The death of those written down as "three dead" or "hundred dead" or "millions dead" are not some Midian concrete cemetery defined by a plot on a map, but are an exhalation of the breath infinity had been holding since birth, waiting... waiting...

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