Verified by 
Particularly for Western culture, death is seen as the ultimate evil; death represents our greatest enemy, nemesis and adversary. Something to be disdained, shunned, and resisted at all costs. Whenever human beings are subjected to the suffering and death of natural disasters, we are forced to gaze into the face of evil. At the moment, for many of us, it is the invisible, microscopic coronavirus that most immediately epitomizes evil, suffering, and death. COVID-19 is our devil du jour.
While I have primarily written here over the past decade about evil deeds--i,.e., human destructiveness--now we are speaking about nature's inherent violence, cruelty, destructiveness, and evil. A biological natural disaster. The killer coronavirus was, in all likelihood, a creation of nature, though how it was turned loose on human beings is unclear. Can we speak of Mother Nature as being cruel? Malicious? Evil? Perhaps. But a better term might be capricious or indifferent: nature does not seem to care about how some of her creations impact or destroy others, including human beings. But asking the question "why" nature does what it does is like the beset upon Job challenging Yahweh, and receiving the outraged reply: "Who are you to dare question what I do?" Indeed, the religious or spiritual attitude that we are all God's creatures and creations, would need of course to include even the lowly coronavirus, cancer cells, infectious bacteria, etc. Could it be that these destructive entities and the perceived evil they cause, including death, serve some important and meaningful purpose in the overall ecosystem of existence? (Fascinatingly, in the H.G. Wells science fiction novel, War of the Worlds, it is, in the end, these naturally-occurring indigenous germs that kill off the invading alien species, saving humankind from domination and extermination.)
As existential analyst and death camp survivor Viktor Frankl (1946) held, humankind has an innate need for and fundamental "will to meaning." How do we human beings attempt to make sense of death, and catastrophic phenomena like pandemics, earthquakes, tornadoes, typhoons, fires, famine, floods, hurricanes, etc. and the suffering they bring? Traditionally, religious beliefs serve to explain such terrifying events: God is angry with and punishing human beings for their wickedness and transgressions. The biblical story of the Great Flood is but one example. Or these events mark the "end times" or existential apocalypse prophesied in the New Testament. Or they are the diabolical work of Satan or the Devil and his minions, as in the Old Testament's Book of Job. The Western scientific worldview, on the other hand attempts to blame such tragedies on physical (rather than metaphysical) and, therefore, quantifiable and measurable natural forces at work in the world: tectonic plates, gravity, barometric pressure, lightning, rain, wind, and so forth. There are even those today who attribute these events throughout history to the direct manipulation of mankind by far superior alien beings. (See my prior post on "ancient aliens.") Each of these perspectives serve the purpose of trying to explain and rationalize the problem of cosmic evil, and, especially, of death, in order to alleviate or reduce our death anxiety. The reality is that these so-called "acts of God" are, like death itself, something we cannot control and are powerless to prevent, and thus are profoundly anxiety-provoking. Indeed, death is the ultimate loss of control, though we try desperately to assert control over it--not unlike the person suffering from obsessive-compulsive disorder tries constantly to control his or her anxiety by attempting to control life.
Clearly, how one thinks about death and what happens after we die can influence significantly one's own degree of death anxiety. For someone suffering intolerably in life, death (either from natural causes, suicide or euthanasia) may be seen as a welcome escape from that seemingly inescapable living hell. But if that same person believes that death is not an end to suffering but rather a repetitive and endless cycle of birth, death and rebirth (as in the Hindu doctrine of karma), death may become much less appealing--in much the same way that the horrifying image of Hell in the Judeo-Christian tradition serves to dissuade some from jumping from frying pan into the fire, while simultaneously (and some might say intentionally) evoking a bad- behavior-limiting terror of ending up there after death. On the other hand, hoping to attain to Heaven upon dying can be quite comforting to the downtrodden, discouraged, disenfranchised members of society who find this one suffering-filled existence more than enough to live through. At the same time, the devout Christian certain of going to the peaceful eternal serenity of Heaven or the militant Muslim terrorist or radical jihadist convinced that he will be greeted after death by a flock of lustful virgins may tend to hold life less dear. And this may render them less susceptible to death anxiety.
Despite its universality, death is addressed differently in other cultures and religions, where it is not necessarily viewed as evil, but instead honored and accepted as a necessary, natural, and essential part of life. C.G. Jung (1934) suggested that death can and should be considered a meaningful destination in life, something to be embraced in maturity rather than shunned and avoided:
Like a projectile flying to its goal, life ends in death. Even its ascent and zenith are only steps and means to this goal. . . . The birth of a human being is pregnant with meaning, why not death? . . . .But what is attained with death? One might . . . say that the majority of religions are complicated systems of preparation for death, so much so that life. . . has no significance except as preparation for the ultimate goal of death. In both Christianity and Buddhism, the meaning of existence is consummated in its end.
For the approximately two-thirds of the world's population who believe in reincarnation, the physical body may perish, but not the soul or spirit, which finds its way into a new incarnation again and again. In that sense, one never exits the wheel of existence, but remains part of it in perpetuity, until enlightenment is attained. Indeed, Eastern religions like Buddhism, Sufism, and Hinduism, for instance, take a healthier and more direct approach to death, in some cases encouraging daily conscious contemplation by the young and healthy in meditation and mental imagery of death's ruinous inevitability, capriciousness, and physical finality. Such sobering, consistently practiced acceptance of death and existential death anxiety, humbly, consciously and willingly becoming in one's mind's eye this anticipated lifeless, decomposing corpse that is every creature's fate--the physical symbol of death's unfathomable facticity--may, paradoxically, be one antidote to death anxiety. Another example of the potentially transformative benefits of directly confronting the grim reality of one's own death can be found in the classic Dickens novel, A Christmas Carol, in which Ebeneezer Scrooge is forced to face his own gravestone.
As we all struggle to survive and cope with this horrific COVID-19 crisis, it is crucial to employ whatever stress management skills we possess, or to take this opportunity to learn some new ones: getting sufficient sleep, daily physical exercise, proper nutrition, etc. Going on long walks or bicycle rides (when able to maintain social distancing), and to take time to consciously appreciate the beauty all around us: it is Spring here in Southern California, with singing birds, warmer temperatures, blue skies, budding trees, soft breezes, barking seals, and blooming flowers. Take this natural beauty in, wherever you are, and let it sustain and comfort you. Let it nourish your soul. Communicate honestly and openly with your partner, if you have one, present or not. Express affection and appreciation. Let him or her know how much you care. Play with your kids. If you are religious, pray. Turn off the unrelenting TV news for a few hours each day: watch some movies, read a book, write a book, draw, paint, take photos, sculpt, play or listen to music, dance, sing, cook, rearrange the furniture, do some gardening, or engage in any other creative activity. Take naps. Practice yoga. Work out. Stay in touch with friends and family for support, connection, and commiseration. For you introverts, take advantage of and savor this involuntary period of introversion; it will not last forever. For extraverted types, use this opportunity to develop what Jung referred to as your "inferior function": learn to meditate, be mindful, study a new subject or language, listen to and honor your deep feelings, appreciate solitude, peace and quiet, pay attention to your dreams to see what your soul or self has to say about your situation. (See my prior post on Jung's psychological types.)
We have now, as a direct result of this crisis, precipitously fully entered the new age of telepsychology. If you feel the need, meet with a psychotherapist via video conference or telephone to talk about your anxieties, fears, suffering, and concerns, and, in some cases, to confront and come to terms with those inner demons from which you have been fleeing via your extraverted lifestyle. Take stock of those things you have always dreamed of doing but may have been avoiding or omitting from your life up to this point, and consider actively pursuing these goals as soon as you are able. Don't dwell on death. But don't avoid thinking about mortality when it comes to mind, and what it means to you philosophically, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually. While it is crucial to consider death and its existential implications, at the same time, we must never allow the fear of death to prevent us from getting on with our lives--to turn into fear of life. This capacity and willingness to face non-being and negation is, in itself, a courageous act of individual and collective heroism. An ultimate assent to, acceptance, and embrace of existential reality. We are "thrown" into existence for but a brief period, blossom if fortunately not cut down too soon by fate, and then, fade away like a beautiful flower after blooming. Life is ephemeral. But whatever happens beyond death, we are responsible for living between forceps and the grave as fully, authentically and creatively as we possibly can, contributing, as Becker (1973) concludes, some creative project, progeny, or new way of perceiving reality or being in the world: "The most that any one of us can seem to do is to fashion something--an object or ourselves--and drop it into the confusion, make an offering of it, so to speak. to the life force." What will our unique contribution be? And if this is not the time to start fashioning it, now when we have the opportunity, energy, and motivation, when will be? Tomorrow is never guaranteed. As the sage old proverb advises: "Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today." Right here. Right now. Carpe diem. Seize the moment. Stop procrastinating. Admit to yourself what you really want to do or be in life, and start working toward realizing it while you still can. How we will live and be remembered in the future rests upon those choices we make from this day forward. And on the attitude we choose to take toward the difficult circumstance in which we collectively find ourselves today.
Finally, there is this: "Central to existential therapy is the concept of an existential crisis as both a perilous passage and a precious opportunity for transformation and growth" (Diamond, 2016). This holds true even in cataclysmic crises such as the one we face right now. For it is only in forthrightly and courageously confronting the frightening and devastating reality of death that we learn to fully love, appreciate, and commit to life, and accept it on its own terms. Thus, death anxiety can be conceived to be a fundamentally positive experience, forcing us to face our finitude and our personal responsibility to live here and now as passionately, lovingly, creatively, courageously, and meaningfully as we can while we are still able. Indeed, such consciously confronted death anxiety can be a powerfully creative force, spurring us to be more present, make difficult decisions, mobilize assertive action, relinquish chronic procrastination, and fight furiously (albeit ultimately futilely) against total obliteration. To courageously do heroic battle with death for as long as possible--but, when our time comes, to choose bravely to surrender and embrace death when the battle is inevitably lost. And, should we by some good fortune survive, for that depends largely on chance or luck, to accept the tragic loss of our fellow human beings, our fallen comrades, who meet their end in this eternal cosmic war against death, annihilation, and non-being. Ultimately, death anxiety is the experience of our instinctual struggle for survival against that which threatens to destroy our physical, psychological, or spiritual being. "Do not go gentle into that good night; Rage, rage against the dying of the light," as Dylan Thomas (1952) touchingly wrote regarding his own father's impending death. Indeed, this may be the healthiest possible response to death anxiety: to acknowledge, accept, and utilize it to live life more authentically, passionately, appreciatively, and creatively in the present. For as another poet, John Donne (1624), so poignantly reminds us, "never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee."
This is Part 3 of a 3-part series.
References
Diamond, S.A. (2016). Existential therapy: Confronting life’s ultimate concerns. In H. Tinsley, S. Lease, & N. Giffin Wiersma (Eds.), Contemporary theory and practice in counseling and psychotherapy (pp. 323-352). Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE.
Becker, E. (1973). The denial of death. New York: The Free Press.
