For those wanting in philosophy and spirit, death is a terminal point: the end of life as we know it. A grand finale, or closure, so to speak. The popularity of the belief in this notably simplified conception of death does not compensate for its intellectual facileness. It is founded solely upon a-posteriori knowledge; which is drawn entirely from physical—more accurately, sensory; as opposed to intellectual—interactions with the corporeal world. But, neither life, nor its opposite, death, are confined to the optimal capacity of our sensory faculties. For a multitude of representations proceed from their pristine form. And, a great many of which are incorporeal: as such, cannot be seized by our sensory receptors. Ipso facto, the conception of death—needless to say that of life too—at an a-posteriori level is eo ipso intellectually trivial, incomplete, and inconclusive.
Our knowledge is not limited to the a-posteriori form; but could be found as well in an a-priori one. In practice, the former pertains to what is possible, whilst the latter to what is eternal. That is to say, beyond what could be possibly realized by our physical state of being: in the spiritual realm, which is per se intellectual; wherein potentiality and actuality so finely intertwine to generate the form of an idea.
I believe it was Mark Twain who once observed, “Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn’t.”
And the truth of this matter is this:
To put it in perspective, consider intermittent fasting. When we fast intermittently, we restrict our intake of food to a defined number of hours (i.e. a time interval) within the day; whilst we suspend eating outside this time interval. Nevertheless, all the attributes associated with food and the function of eating remain intact during this suspension. As a matter of fact, some are amplified—such as our metabolism.
The same holds true vis-á-vis life and death. The prevalent notion of death is a gross misconception at best. Life in rerum natura—contrary to corporeality—can neither be diminished nor extinguished; it does, alternatively, multiply and reproduce. For life is the substance of existence and the destruction thereof implies per se the breakdown of the latter; which is in itself whole and indivisible: the eternal form of all there is.
What might and could be altered are the representations of this infinite and perdurable form (existence)—i.e. physical creations or incarnations of ideas; hence, they are subject to change, changeable, insofar that the Supreme Intelligence that governs existence deems it necessary as to perfect their association with their corresponding form. [See, “The Gravest of all Conceptual Fallacies: Confusing Creation for Existence [For only God Exists],” to acquire a better understanding of the difference between creation and existence]
Immanuel Kant (1781) explained in “The Critique of Pure Reason,” in the “Transcendental Doctrine of the Faculty of Judgment or, Analytic Principles,” that “time passes not, but in it passes the existence of the changeable. To time, therefore, which is itself unchangeable and permanent, corresponds that which in the phenomenon is unchangeable in existence, that is, substance, and it is only by it that succession and coexistence of phenomena can be determined in regard to time,” (Kant 206).
Consider unearthed artifacts. The recovery of artifacts belonging to a certain civilization revitalizes the popular consciousness thereof. Yet, those artifacts constitute merely facilitating conceptual vehicles. Our interest in them stems from an existing interest in the form they represent. Unless due to some mental disorder, a sane person would never find themself in awe at the spectacle of… well… clay, wood, or steel, etc. What in reality incites our awe is oftentimes the idea (form) or the life of the person (or group) that this piece of clay, or what have you, is a depiction (representation) of: simply put, we are awed by the mastery and genius the artifact unveils.
Vincent van Gogh died penniless. Notwithstanding, his existential print, if anything, has drastically expanded its trace. His paintings—the legacy of his ‘corporeal life’ [emphasis added]; and, tangible representations of his genius—exchange hands at very handsome figures nowadays; which is an evidence that his genius continues to grow dimensionally, albeit that his body is no longer moving in our midst [emphasis added]. The idea of that van Gogh, of his existence, or anyone’s existence for that matter, is eternal and imperishable.
In fact, not a single idea or notion of life is subject to death—as the latter is commonly, and all too often erroneously, understood. Ideas and notions may be countered, discredited, or refuted; they may also be rejected, abandoned, or negated; even forgotten, by Jupiter! But, dead? No! Death has never been an attribute of existence. For to that which is permanent, i.e. existence, corresponds life, and life alone.
Thereon, death is a concept that we have conceived as conscious res cogitans (thinking things) to understand the cessation of formerly possible interactions with objects that we have identified as in a state of activity (alive) independent of external forces; where their activeness either intersects with, or anyhow relates, to our res extensa (the body). To elucidate this more clearly, we never refer to stones as dead, they are nonliving [emphasis added] objects in the first place.
In a nutshell, it is the inactivity of that which was once active that we label as death. However, its reactivation, or revival, remains possible—and plausibly superior to its previous state—at some latter time (i.e. intermittently) in existence by one means or another—physical or otherwise.
Reference
Kant, Immanuel. The Critique of Pure Reason. Apple Books; trans. by J. M. D. Meiklejohn; The Project Gutenberg, 1781.
