SUFFERING:DEATH

To say I’m sitting here unafraid of death, to say I’m here unafraid that my heart’s desires will never be fulfilled, would be as grand a lie as saying the sun doesn’t rise in the morning. It’s terrifying—but beautiful.

Buddha says that suffering (for the totality of this essay, take as *dissatisfaction*) is an inherent part of human existence—that we live life unable to escape dissatisfaction, and it’s fundamentally futile to run from it. This is similar to absurdism, coined by Albert Camus, which holds that the world inherently has no meaning and that the search for meaning itself is meaningless. This absence of meaning isn’t from nowhere; it stems from the same place as Buddha’s teachings—that suffering is inescapable and is not something additional to existence but rather something intimately woven into the genetic code of existence.

A prime example is genetic diseases and deformities. I do not claim to be a biological expert, but the sheer volume and frequency of genetic conditions that cause dissatisfaction—sometimes to unbearable degrees—occurring in people before they are even born is striking evidence of the absurdity of the world we live in. These individuals, with no influence over their fate, are subjected to suffering from the very moment they enter existence.

This inevitability of suffering, whether it be genetic or circumstantial, has driven humanity to seek solace in religion. At every corner of the world, we see religion telling people that if they pray hard enough, if they seek hard enough, their suffering will be appeased. I empathize with this. Suffering is brutal—no one denies that. The desire for peace and refuge from this visceral entity that terrorizes humans is something every Tom, Chiamaka, Abdul, and Hiroto experiences—a multicultural take on the common *Tom, Dick, and Harry* expression.

I don’t think anyone ever escapes this maze. Every religion proposes a solution to this problem, and what consistently seems to provide peace is *acceptance.* Acceptance may be packaged differently, but at its core, it is fundamentally the same. Abrahamic religions accept that they are powerless in the face of suffering and seek God to cope with it. Buddhists, absurdists, and nihilists fully embrace suffering and what comes with it—riding the wave, some might say—albeit on different waves.

I would like to consider myself somewhat of a hybrid. I accept the inherent suffering of human existence and its implications, but like Buddhism, I reject powerlessness and choose to be an active participant in my life. As mentioned earlier, everyone chooses different remedies, but mine aligns most closely with the nihilists. I acknowledge that I will suffer, but I reject the idea that suffering must dictate my life or my happiness.

I choose to bulldoze through life with conscious and critical effort, shaping the world in my image. As a sculptor carves hard rock to materialize his vision, I continuously fight against the suffering of the world to create an end product that satisfies me. This approach—acknowledging suffering but refusing to be powerless—reminds me of bell hooks’ idea of love as an action, not just a feeling. Just as I choose to carve meaning from suffering, love, too, requires conscious effort. To truly love my existence, I must first recognize it for what it is, embrace it, and then actively shape it into something I can cherish Like any human, I am prone to error, prone to moments of succumbing to my baser nature. For as the wind blows, I, too, am prone to move. So, I declare: I am *mortified* of death. But I embrace it as the eventual ending to my story.

And with every story comes an ending—but endings aren’t always terrible. Every good story needs an ending, even the sad ones.

So, with my fear of death, I hope there is beauty in my story. I hope that beauty empowers my loved ones to take an active role in this absurd world—a call to action for everyone, even the religious. Because if you wait for God to help you bear this pain, you must first recognize that *you* have power. Work through this pain, hold the hands of those you love, and know that—wherever I might be, should I meet my untimely end—my hand is on your back.