How would I like to die?

Posted on by Opher

Extract from the Book of DEATH

  1. How would I like to die?

So how would I like to die?

Peaceably in my sleep like my grandfather – not screaming and terrified like his passengers.

Well yes. I would prefer to die peaceably in my sleep without any long drawn out illness. I do not relish pain or the fear that comes from having to confront the end of everything. I’ve watched people going through the process of dying. It is not pleasant but perhaps, perversely, it is worse for the spectators? The dying person can become reconciled to the process.

Heart failure is the best – at around three in the morning just after completing a pleasant set of dreams. The heart stops and the oxygen supply dries up – the brain shuts down. The various other tissues and organs follow suit in order of their oxygen requirements. I think the skin is the last to go – days later. That’s why you have to shave corpses.

If not heart failure then walking into a room full of nitrogen would do the trick. I wouldn’t notice anything until I suddenly passed out as my brain shuts down through lack of oxygen. As our bodies have no way of assessing the oxygen levels in our blood I would suffer no symptoms. I would simply suddenly lose consciousness without any distress. Sounds good to me. Why don’t they use that method for capital punishment? Much more humane than the electric chair, shooting or hanging? Why don’t they use it in abattoirs? It would remove all that grisly stunning and bloodletting. I’m sure animals would be less terrified and the people carrying it out would find it preferable.

A nitrogen death would suit me.

Failing that a catastrophic brain haemorrhage might be a good contender for a good death, or an unexpected bullet in the back of the head, like in the Sopranos, or being at ground zero in a nuclear explosion. But I don’t want to know it’s coming.

I’d prefer not to feel pain or suffer the long drawn-out process of dying. I want it quick, painless and without much elongated thinking!

The Book of DEATH: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Ophe Opher, Goodwin, Opher: 9798294533908: Books

The Book of Death

Posted on by Opher

Contents

Dedications

Introduction

  1. The present – I am dying
  2. The final frontier
  3. Which of the three biggest killers is most likely to get me?
  4. How would I like to die?
  5. The social taboo of death
  6. A culture terrified of death
  7. Can you have a dignified death?
  8. An Irish Wake
  9. How to die 2
  10. When are we dead?
  11. The sequence of my death
  12. Karma
  13. How am I doing at sixty-seven?
  14. Dying inside? Yes!
  15. Sam my dog
  16. Anecdote – reporting my death
  17. Seventy-four
  18. Downsizing
  19. Writing the Death Diaries
  20. The elderly lady and Hat
  21. Reassessment
  22. I’m still not dead
  23. Downsizing – We did it!
  24. Life and creativity
  25. Which killer?
  26. Still waiting
  27. From beyond the grave
  28. Which of us will go first?
  29. Life goes on
  30. Fit and healthy
  31. Death can wait another day
  32. So what have I got to live for?
  33. Liz’s burial wishes
  34. Leaving my body to medical science
  35. Too old
  36. Deaths of friends
  37. Rites and ceremonies
  38. Guides for death
  39. Death of a parent
  40. Legacies
  41. Current situation
  42. Indecision
  43. Present day – death of politics
  44. Cunning plans for the future
  45. Cataracts
  46. Being an old man
  47. We are all dying
  48. Reflections
  49. What happens after death?
  50. When we are dead?
  51. Medical science
  52. Lessons from a long life
  53. Death rituals – Bali
  54. Religious ceremonies
  55. Spiritualism
  56. Air burials
  57. Life after death
  58. State of health update
  59. Death is natural – We are programmed in our DNA
  60. Mexico – The Day of the Dead
  61. What actually will happen as we die
  62. Benefits of being old
  63. This book is frustrating – I’m still here!
  64. Epitaphs
  65. Where does it lead?
  66. Post death revelations
  67. Celebration of my life
  68. Death of my Dad
  69. Enjoying the sun
  70. More death rituals
  71. Life after death
  72. Mum and spiritualism
  73. Egocentric solipsism and other death philosophies
  74. My Mum’s death
  75. Lies
  76. Souls, spirits and essence
  77. Spirituality
  78. How am I doing at seventy-six?
  79. The existentials – Sartre, De Beauvois and Camus
  80. Quantum Death
  81. Fast or slow?
  82. Death Cleaning
  83. The Native American girl on the Greyhound Bus
  84. Assisted dying
  85. Thanks for DEATH!
  86. What’s going to happen to me?
  87. Perhaps there is no death after all?
  88. This could be the last time! May be the last time, I don’t know.
  89. Deathbed regrets
  90. How is this book going to end?

The Book of DEATH: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Ophe Opher, Goodwin, Opher: 9798294533908: Books

Book of DEATH – Paperback, Hardback, eBook and audio!

Posted on by Opher

I started to write this book twenty odd years ago. I’d reached that age when I started to get a whiff of mortality. I thought that as a writer I’d chronicle my own feelings, thoughts and symptoms regarding my own death. I called it ‘The Death Diaries’. The years went on and no tangible symptoms materialised for me to write about – but I did have a lot of thoughts, feelings and research regarding death. I changed the emphasis. Instead of a diary regarding my own death I collected together my research, thoughts and feelings into a different book. I called it ‘The Book of DEATH’.

This is it.

It’s finally out in Hardback, Paperback and eBook. Everything you want to know about death!

The Book of DEATH: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Ophe Opher, Goodwin, Opher: 9798294533908: Books

An atheist explores death from all angles.
Originally titled ‘The Death Diaries’ (20 years in the writing) – but that never happened (not yet!)
Humour deployed, science explained, disbelief ladled with syrup, rituals ceremoniously elaborated on, myths ridiculed, personal condition revealed, psychology delved into, cultures touched on, views expressed, taboos bulldozed, honesty put to the forefront, fears probed and mysteries demystified.
My forthright views delivered with openness and maximum offense!
Everything you might want to know or think about death.
Death! You’ve got to love it!
Now get on with life!

The Book of DEATH

Posted on by Opher

Just Finished it – The Book of Death!!

Posted on by Opher

It’ll be with you shortly!!

Contents

Dedications

Introduction

  1. The present – I am dying
  2. The final frontier
  3. Which of the three biggest killers is most likely to get me?
  4. How would I like to die?
  5. The social taboo of death
  6. A culture terrified of death
  7. Can you have a dignified death?
  8. An Irish Wake
  9. How to die 2
  10. When are we dead?
  11. The sequence of my death
  12. Karma
  13. How am I doing at sixty-seven?
  14. Dying inside? Yes!
  15. Sam my dog
  16. Anecdote – reporting my death
  17. Seventy-four
  18. Downsizing
  19. Writing the Death Diaries
  20. The elderly lady and Hat
  21. Reassessment
  22. I’m still not dead
  23. Downsizing – We did it!
  24. Life and creativity
  25. Which killer?
  26. Still waiting
  27. From beyond the grave
  28. Which of us will go first?
  29. Life goes on
  30. Fit and healthy
  31. Death can wait another day
  32. So what have I got to live for?
  33. Liz’s burial wishes
  34. Leaving my body to medical science
  35. Too old
  36. Deaths of friends
  37. Rites and ceremonies
  38. Guides for death
  39. Death of a parent
  40. Legacies
  41. Current situation
  42. Indecision
  43. Present day – death of politics
  44. Cunning plans for the future
  45. Cataracts
  46. Being an old man
  47. We are all dying
  48. Reflections
  49. What happens after death?
  50. When we are dead?
  51. Medical science
  52. Lessons from a long life
  53. Death rituals – Bali
  54. Religious ceremonies
  55. Spiritualism
  56. Air burials
  57. Life after death
  58. State of health update
  59. Death is natural – We are programmed in our DNA
  60. Mexico – The Day of the Dead
  61. What actually will happen as we die
  62. Benefits of being old
  63. This book is frustrating – I’m still here!
  64. Epitaphs
  65. Where does it lead?
  66. Post death revelations
  67. Celebration of my life
  68. Death of my Dad
  69. Enjoying the sun
  70. More death rituals
  71. Life after death
  72. Mum and spiritualism
  73. Egocentric solipsism and other death philosophies
  74. My Mum’s death
  75. Lies
  76. Souls, spirits and essence
  77. Spirituality
  78. How am I doing at seventy-six?
  79. The existentials – Sartre, De Beauvois and Camus
  80. Quantum Death
  81. Fast or slow?
  82. Death Cleaning
  83. The Native American girl on the Greyhound Bus
  84. Assisted dying
  85. Thanks for DEATH!
  86. What’s going to happen to me?
  87. Perhaps there is no death after all?
  88. This could be the last time! May be the last time, I don’t know.
  89. Deathbed regrets
  90. How is this book going to end?

The Death Diaries – The Final Frontier

Posted on by Opher

I’m busy writing my book on death – The Death Diaries. I’m enjoying it!

  1. The final frontier.

Death is the final frontier.

Bollocks.

Death is the end. There is no frontier. A frontier implies that there’s something on the other side.

There is nothing after death – at least nothing we can be at all certain of. That is what terrifies us. Everything we hold dear; our minds, our lives, our family, friends, possessions, likes and dislikes, and the whole damn universe blinks out of existence for ever.

That is so sinister and final that we invent religions in order to avoid having to deal with it.

We can’t bear the thought that we will cease to exist; that the universe will go on without us, that there is no plan, no purpose, no reason.

All life, the universe and everything is all an accident. Infinity gives plenty of scope for an infinite number of totally improbable accidents – given enough time, space and chemistry. That’s what I believe. I’m an accident.

I am a firm believer in accidents.

I am not a believer in gods, angels, heavens, hells, satan or fairies. I believe them to be products of fevered minds struggling to come to terms with reality.

I believe life happened by chance; it evolved.

I believe consciousness is merely a survival mechanism.

I’m not sure how the universe blinked into existence through some Big Bang but I feel no need to invent another mystery in order to explain it. If god did it then where did god come from?

I believe in science, evolution and chance.

When I read creation myths like Adam and Eve they are farcical.

When I consider the notion that there is a heaven and we will meet up with dead friends and family to live forever in some paradise, that is beyond farcical; that is absurd. They are all invented in order to deal with our neurosis about death. I don’t like pretence. I don’t like psychological games invented to fool ourselves into believing that we don’t really die. I view religions are human creations; attempts to explain the Big Bang and life and death. For me they explain nothing. They’re a sham. I prefer to marvel at the wonder of it. We are surrounded with the unknown. Religion doesn’t come near to explaining it. Science only gives us glimpses. Art and nature abound with it. I like to sit in the mystery with a sunset or fire to transport me into the contentment of wonder. Life, the universe and death are wondrous cycles to be absorbed into the psyche and relished. I reject all simple answers. We have life. We live in a spectacular universe. We die.

No, for me, death is final.

This life is all we have. I aim to live every second and make the most of it. There’s nothing more.

When my brain shuts down I will cease to exist forever.

Do I like that? No.

But I don’t want to create some ridiculous, fanciful story in order to shield me from the reality of the abyss of eternity. I can’t remember anything from before I was born. That’s because I didn’t exist.

That’s how death is.

This then is the story of my death.

Lessons from a long life.

Posted on by Opher

Lessons from a long life.

What have I learnt?

One important thing I would like to pass on: beware men who have no doubt!

Beware people who are certain about anything – particularly the religious and political ones. They are very dangerous.

Reflections from a ditch – reflections on life

Posted on by Opher

The structure of the book reflected the journey.

I started each chapter with the journey in a chronological order ending with the crash.

I ended each chapter with the crash in a chronological sequence.

Sandwiched in Between were the thoughts, fantasies and hopes of a dying man. All life, death and reflections. I wrote it in fragments representing the bursts of consciousness, memories, thoughts, dreams and ideas that pass through the mind of a dying man.

Reflections from a ditch:

Blackie got a broken nose because he wouldn’t stay quiet while we were in ambush behind the wall. It was serious stuff. Clive lost his temper with him and smacked him straight on the nose. I was transfixed. I had never seen so much blood. It spurted out and poured over his shirt, squirting through his fingers as he howled. In seconds his shirt was a sodden crimson gore.

            Adults appeared from nowhere and an ambulance swooped him away never to be seen again. Blackie went with barely a second thought from us. We never did find out if he got his blood transfusion or if they had to operate to reset his squashed nose. He just went.

            Some people think I am strange. That is because they are more perceptive than others.

            The times, like childhood, that seemed simple and uncomplicated are only so because you are not brushing up against the power of politics, religion, control or possession. You are in control and living in the moment. It was pure.

            Jeff was standing in the middle of the street wide-eyed, petrified to stone, shrieking in such a way that turned your gizzards to jelly and sent waves of horror through you to fuel your nightmares for years. Then not shrieking. He was too horrified to shriek any longer. He so desperately wanted it to not be true. He wanted to climb back out of that nightmare and into the warm summer sun of reality. Yet he was standing, arms held out, like a scarecrow and it was real.

            And again adults appeared and fussed around as we stood back in the shadows and watched. No one was volunteering the information.

Clive had put the huge hairy house spider he had found down Jeff’s shirt. A spider so big it filled your hand. Its legs stretched across the bottom of a bucket; and it was so quick and sinister. It stood stock-still evaluating and then would dart and scurry seeking cover. And Clive had gleefully grabbed it and stuffed it down Jeff’s shirt, his face alive with delight. And Jeff had taken a second to register that it had happened. His face blank as the spider must have scurried across his skin beneath his thin cotton shirt. It was too dreadful to accept.

Then he had realised it was true.

He ran to the centre of the road, shrieking and flapping at his body with his hands; eyes bulging. We were at once horrified at what we had done and intrigued. As Jeff had a hysterical fit, slavering foam and diving for the safety of catatonia. We watched.

I remember feeling horrified. I remember feeling grateful that it wasn’t me. I empathised. I could feel that spider crawling under my shirt. I can still feel it. The hairy legs gripping and tickling as it scurried – the horror of it. But another part of me felt intrigued. What would he do? What was going to happen? Would he just die with the terror of it?

We were excited. Our eyes gleamed. A part of us was enjoying this.

The adults milled around in confusion. What was going on?

            Eventually someone whispered what had happened. They undressed him in the street; actually stripped him naked. Infront of everyone! We watched for the spider to emerge. It was hard to get his clothes off, as his body was completely rigid. They took everything off till he was naked but nobody saw the spider. It had vanished to feed my nightmares forever. They took Jeff off to be sedated and when we saw him a week later he was fine.

Nobody ever mentioned the event again.

            When you are born they do not give you a map to find your way through life.

Reflections from a ditch eBook : Goodwin, Opher: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

Reflections from a ditch – A novel

Posted on by Opher

This novel is part biographical. It is based around a journey I used to make every day as I went into work. I used to drive down country lanes. The sights and events all happened. The crash didn’t – at least not that one!

I wanted a framework to hang a lot of thoughts around. My protagonist is basically me. He/Me is trapped in an upside down car in a ditch, badly injured and slowly dying. His/My head is full of random thoughts and memories as consciousness ebbs.

Reflections from a ditch – the blurb.

Sex, death, awe, wonder, fury, birth, life, beauty, politics, religion, anger, nature, love, questions, stories and thoughts are all words. I had to rearrange their meanings.
You live your life and then you die. You start a journey that will not end as you expect. From a childhood spent in ditches to a lonesome wait in a ditch. You think you understand. You have relationships with people, animals, possessions and places but you can only guess at the other side. You are aware. You have a moral code you live by. You see how good things could be and, when you wear your Sunday best, you do your bit to make it happen. Your life is measured in seconds but how much of it has significance? You laugh and enjoy. You think and wonder. You create and destroy. Sometimes you are fulfilled and often you are frustrated; most of the time you are simply bored or engaged in the mundane. The things that stand out are oases in a desert of forgotten ordinariness.
This is a story of a crash.

Reflections from a ditch eBook : Goodwin, Opher: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

53 and Imploding- An extract

Posted on by Opher

I’m now seventy-three, just short of seventy-four. I’ve had a further twenty years since writing this book. A lot of life has passed under the sewer.

I called this an antinovel. I was trying to capture the ideas flitting through my head, the dreams, attitudes, views, observations and thoughts.

There is no reality or story. It’s a glimpse inside my head. Nothing more.

53 and imploding: Amazon.co.uk: goodwin, opher: 9781512343014: Books

Chapter 1

I am a watcher. I spend a lot of my time watching the people around me going about their life and looking for some signs of intelligence, understanding, planning; even a few hints of consciousness might be a novelty. I can make no sense of it. I can see no sense in it. The more I study them, all caught up in their tiny lives, the more they appear like termites in a huge termitarium, building ever more grand mounds, rushing around doing important things earnestly, importantly, frivolously, while a forest fire rushes towards them. I look around at the different mounds and see that they really believe each one will last forever. I look back across a huge flat plain of history littered with mounds that did not last forever. We live in the outer atmosphere of the sun.

I am merely the watcher. I don’t expect much. Some purpose would be nice, perhaps an aim or two, something to work towards, some greater purpose than self-aggrandisement. After all there’s enough to get your teeth into. We could set about proving Jesus wrong by eradicating poverty. We could make a fool out of Malthus by solving the population problem. We could save all those hundreds of thousands of species destined to die. We could end pollution, solve the energy crisis, transport dilemma, end all wars or simply protect the erosion of our environment. Oh, there’s no end to the possibility and scope that we are presented with. On the face of it we are, of course, doing precisely that. Pompous politicians set out plans to tackle this problem and that, seven-year plans, ten year plans. But I am the watcher. I see the money being siphoned off, the pockets being lined; I see the extravagant life styles as those that purport to be solving the problems set themselves up; I watch the political juggling as they build and protect their power base and defend themselves. One set of politics against another – intrigue – manipulation -dirty tricks – undermining – power struggles – wealth – opulence. Amidst it all the purpose is lost and the problems mount up. Nothing is solved. We act like termites building bigger piles, seizing thrones and gaining followings.  In amongst the amassing and gaining the problems go on and we continue to prove fucking Jesus right.

Liz tells me I do not notice anything about people.

I am fifty-three. I am comfortable and secure. Perhaps that is the problem? I’ve got something to loose. I can see those seconds ticking. I can see them. The ones that have ticked and the ones to be ticked – they have conspired to trap me here.

            How the fuck can you be happy?

            Even as you read this millions are starving, getting ill and dying. The numbers of humans are soaring, forests are being chopped down, and animals are being tortured and killed.

            How can you be happy when people are being blown apart in wars? When stupid money grabbing corporations are deliberately sewing landmines to blow peoples’ legs off?

            How can you be happy when the air is full of carbon dioxide, sulphurous oxides and nitrous oxides; while ozone is being destroyed by CFCs? When water is contaminated by sewage, mercury and radioactive isotopes; our food is full of pesticides and herbicides and the land is eroding and saturated with a cocktail of harmful chemicals? When species are being eradicated faster than at any time in history?

            How can you be happy when inequality creates such extremes? When history is littered with the horrors of the rich and powerful? When all life is hollow and the rich and powerful pull the strings and all they want is more power and wealth and they don’t give a fuck for you, the seas, forests or wild-life?

            How can you be happy when religions all claim they are the only way, there is but one God or many Gods and they will fight to the death to prove it and convert you.

            How can you be happy when every single thing you see and hear is lying propaganda? – When you are being manipulated as a consumer, a member of a target group, a potential voter, a potential problem. Know your place and shop.

How can you be happy when each new panacea for the world’s problems is a system run by leaders with vested interests who cannot be trusted?

How can you be happy when the aim of dominant males is to dominate even if that means annihilating everything as long as they end up top dog. Better to be undisputed leader of the last ten rather that a leader of a billion among many leaders of billions or even one other leader.

            How can you be happy when your life is all about owning a third DVD player, another TV and a swish car and feel shit because your phone is the wrong colour, shape or size? When you are obsessed with the label on your clothes, your body shape and muscle definition?

            How can you be happy when the world is being covered in concrete, corporations buy off politicians, MacDonalds has a branch on the Amazon and music is a product?

            How can art be a commodity?

            How can you be happy when nobody cares about the 600 Mountain Gorillas so that a rich millionaire can pay a fortune to get hunters to kill three precious gorillas in order to capture a baby so he can have it for a pet?

            How can you be happy when a moronic footballers salary is hundreds of thousands a week, stupid selfish, greedy Rock Stars, actors and actresses earn millions and babies lie bloated for want of a bowl of rice? A millionaire buys a trip on a spaceship.

            How can you be happy when you’re sitting there gloating, smug, arrogant, superior and pampered, thinking that your wealth, power, beliefs, abilities, intelligence, make you superior. Don’t you realise that you’re a rich, wealthy, arrogant, empty fool whose whole life is built on greed and is utterly, destructively hollow. You are no better or worse than the green slime on my pond, except the green slime performs a worthwhile function. You selfishly exist to make your stupid self feel important. Are you cultured? – Knowledgeable and superior? Pah!

            How can you be happy living in this pointless little existence?

            How can you be happy putting you £2 sop into Oxfam when government policy necessitates the starving of millions for the good of the economy? When the G7 could eradicate poverty and inequality if they wanted but it might mean you can only afford three tellies and one car.

            How can you be happy with so many little nations all spending their wealth on defence and obsequious religion instead of solving problems, limiting population and living in peace and harmony with each other and the environment?

            You can create and not destroy you know? You can be part of the solution.

            How can you be happy when it could all be so different? When we could limit our numbers, clean up our act, leave enough natural environment for the rest of life and build societies more tolerant and equal? When we could look around us, appreciate the simple things and be sensitive, pleasant, helpful beings leading creative lives, harnessing science and technology for the good of all life and protecting our delicate planet. You could look in wonder, paint, dance, sing, write and do a million things.

            We could have a future as well as a past.

            Does death scare you?

            The universe is so big that your ego doesn’t even have the significance of a speck of dust; your intelligence is laughable; your Leah jet can’t get you there and your wealth can’t buy a single star. Your beliefs won’t gain you a second more and your possessions will decay.

            The only good thing is that one day all traces of us will cease to exist and your place in the history of the universe will be as if you had never breathed.

            All we have to play with is the present. We can build futures. We can stop suffering. We can care. Surely that is a worthwhile aim?

I hear the ticking. Each tap on this keyboard could have been spent differently. I continue to tap until something more important comes along. I would like to see what that might be.

I would like to be happy. I continue to send reports from the termitarium. These are the sermons on the mound.

Opher 26.5.02   8.5.02  2.7.02

            The first rule is that whatever starts off in idealism usually ends up bogged down in practicality.

That is the way it is planned.

2.7.02