But there are people of strange properties. I do not know how to classify them, but they are completely different to death. Their thinking is strangely changed. They do not harbor reverence and fear of their own demise, but neither do they mock death, do not joke about it. All their attitude towards death is reduced to the utter contempt for this final note in the life of any person. These people, of course, have a different attitude to life. Something demonic lives in their eyes and in the depths of their souls.
Only once I happened to meet such a person. We were shaking with him on the train when I once again went on a business trip to Siberia. Rarely, but sometimes there are people on the path of life, from whom, and you literally feel it with your skin, fluids of mental strength, calm inner power and ice-cold indifference to everything that emanates. In the soul of such a person is ruled by an amazing, cosmic peace. When I talked with my interlocutor, I realized that true contempt for death does not manifest itself in the choice of highly dangerous professions, not in mad races on motorcycles, not in lasagna on the sheer cliffs in the mountains and not recruited as a mercenary in the hot-blooded points. "
Do not confuse the search for death with contempt for it. Indifference to death lies in the special feeling of a passionless attitude towards the whole chain of human life. Birth, first cry, first desire to get enough, kindergarten, school, service, marriage, children, grandchildren, old age and death. These people, who despise the "oblique" to the depths of the soul, have a peculiar magnetism. It is extremely interesting to talk with them, but then the feeling of emptiness and a strange sediment of hatred towards others remains at heart.
By profession my companion turned out to be a forensic doctor. In the usual conversation over a bottle of two people who have a long joint journey under the sound of wheels, the question arose: What will be left of us after death? Then he expressed his vision of this problem, but more on that later. I asked this question to other people after that meeting, and they (all of different ages, sex and occupation) think so:
1. After death will remain the memory of relatives and friends. Whether kind, not so kind, but - surely will remain! At least the image of the deceased in the minds of native people.
2. After death there will be dust, an unpleasant shapeless, decaying body, but the soul will already be looking for a new shelter.
3. After death, the fruits of a person’s hands remain - his music, his poems, his pictures, the stool made by his hands in the hallway, finally. Either his financial empire created with difficulty and risk, or the cozy shoe repair shop.
4. One desperate musician, a lover of heavy music and psychogogic substances, with black humor, said that after his death, there would remain “emasculated mother's and father's nerves” and four shelves of phenomenal demonic music in the style of “heavy metal”.
5. In an ordinary village in the Lipetsk region, a local philosopher, a former agronomist, bowed his head to one side, said that after his death, there would be fertilizer, and his soul would go free from under the earth through an apple tree or some other tree or plant that grows at his burial site.
6. Grandpa in Yeisk, who reasonably fears that the children and grandson will cremate his body after death, instead of giving to the earth, mumbled with a slight smile that after him there will be smoke in the pipe of the crematorium and soot when he flies to heaven. His soul will live in that soot. And where the wind and storms will carry his soul through the air, he does not know, just like any normal person.
7. A dog lover, a professional breeder, under the barking of many young little dogs and snouts in enclosures almost progavala - with humor - that after her death there will be dozens of wonderful Labradors who will do a lot of new Labradorchikov . And her soul will live in droplets in every living offspring of her first family of Labradors, whom she tied more than twenty-five years ago.
8. A merry drunk in a village near Chelyabinsk expressed the idea that after his death there would remain huge bottles and a powerful, trouble-free, literally “alive”, that is, “with soul” moonshine and skillfully twisted additional serpentine. And his soul will move to this very serpentine: it is painful for him to like this brilliant thin tubule of perfectly regular spiral shape.
9. A photographer on the beach (in a philosophical mood) is simply sure that after his death hundreds of thousands of pictures will remain from him, that they will be scattered across countries and villages, and in each photograph there will be a grain of his contemplative soul.
10. But the forensic physician, with genuine, sincere contempt, relates to death, on the Moscow-Novosibirsk train simply said that all that remains after his death is the tag with the number that they hang in the morgue for the dead man's big toe. According to him, a man and tormented, walking on the path of life, and rejoices that he still goes, and fights, hurts, kills, loves, hates and creates, in order, in the end, to a well-deserved reward, to this most tags on the thumb of the dead leg of a dead person. So he thinks, the true realist and calm contemplator of life.
Romantics, not true realists — cautious subjects and other people who experience awe, fear, trembling, or even irony before death — build sand castles in their minds. They dream that something will happen to their soul after death, that something will remain of them. What is there, beyond the last line, on the other side of life, is something. It is not known that, but something still has to be. At least hell or heaven. But the real realist, despising death, the forensic physician, knows for sure that all that death brings to a person is a tag in the morgue with his big toe.
Everyone will die, so it has been led from time immemorial. And everyone, albeit reluctantly, but from early childhood somehow develops his attitude towards the final moment of life.
I noticed that the attitude to death during life affects the way a person, his character and behavior. Whether to become a realist or a romantic in “rose-colored glasses” in relation to death will have to be decided by everyone, quietly, somewhere deep down, perhaps in a moment of serenity, to the sound of a sea wave.