The Zombie Virus of Death Denial

Modern zombies annoy me. The only zombies I knew of when I was growing up were from Scooby Doo and they were slow predators that could be easily dooped. Who ever made Zombies fast missed the boat as the whole point of Zombies being scary was that they were s.l.o.w.

So, I just took this amazing Death Midwifery/Doula course and over the 14 weeks I am thinking heavily and thoroughly on the massive cultural death denial that is sweeping us to oblivion. Not only death denial but anything “other” or  “different” or “slow” or even, “unpretty.”  Let’s be honest. Our elderly, our differently abled, our mentally challenged (some gifted empaths though they may be) are all in very “special” places where the regular pace of every day is not slowed by their presence.

For, what would happen if we allowed Joe at cubical four to have paid leave time to mourn the death of his sister? What would happen if we allowed Maria paid maternity leave and allowed breast pumping breaks? (On top of that, what if we made Maria feel confident about giving a great start to her child’s life and did not shame her by kind of just looking the other way when she was pumping in the bathroom and instead gave her a quiet room where other adults were not pooping?) No, no, best to keep uncomfortable topics far from the workplace or everyone might get the idea that we are a compassionate business (or society) and who knows what kind of productivity could happen under those conditions.  Chop, chop! Time is money!

What we have created as a whole society is a life where we chose the way we want to feel to suit ourselves- and not in a good way like we are meditating so much that we are noticing our emotions and making friends with them.  More like our empathy (if we have any) is given out in small controlled doses at a time.... Those two minute A+J videos break my heart and I am SO glad I am not in Myanmar. And also, I am really thankful for everything that I have and I donate as often as I can to those who are less fortunate because I am so privileged and I feel so badly for them and I can’t image what they are going through.

Bullshit. You are going to die. You are dying. Your yerba matte, you, and everyone in your yoga class are going to shrivel up, lose collagen, possibly atrophy and die. (Your yoga mat will live on)  And, in some circumstances, that shriveling up time could be considered a fortunate kind of death because it would not be sudden- if you can believe that!?

 I’m not saying this because I think people don’t think they themselves are going to die, it’s just that they think everyone else is going to die first and Myanmar is really far away. We think we have plenty of time to be nice later, do make a difference later, to be kind and gentle and accepting of ourselves and others-- later. And, all of this is being generous. I don’t actually know how many people even know what or where or who Rohingya are. (The Rohingya are a group of Muslims who are currently being tortured, raped and killed and are being chased out of Myanmar- once Burma- it’s horrible. Google it.)

Because we have shielded ourselves from the less fortunate, the old, the sick and the slow, we have also started putting a time cap on the things like birth and death which can cause extended periods of uncertainty and make us question time and what we are actually doing with our own specific amount of it which has no guarantees.  “Ooooooh, you’re 24 hours over due…. We’re on a tight schedule this week so we’re going to induce you tomorrow.” People have started to feel like an inconvenience at their most vulnerable hours. There’s no time for waiting to see what will happen. There’s no time to deal with or even feel your own pain. There’s no time to grieve for longer than your work wants you to. Actually, North American society does not want you to grieve at all. “Yeeeeah, that sounds really depressing. You should talk to someone about that.”

Our culture, magazines and social media are spewing out the never-ending rush for newer, faster and more beautiful. You know what I’d love to see? A magazine called Slow and Awesome. It would include descriptions of the daily life of our elderly, evaluations of their bowl movements (that you can compare to your own) and how they felt during each social engagement program that they were forced to attend (or worse, no option of such) because their family doesn’t have time to visit them in that “depressing place.”  Howabout  “face reading” wrinkles rather than palm reading. Why can’t wrinkles be awesome? A lot of work goes into them! I could think of a hundred slow and awesome people and things and life circumstances for just the first publication but no…. If it were to sit on the shelf next to the clipped, buffed, botoxed and obviously undiseased, totally fecal and urinary continent, emotionally and financially stable and confident woman radiating immortality- well, which would you pick?

The original idea of zombie it seems stemmed from Africa and then moved to Haiti where the slaves worked in the sugar plantations. These people were forced to work so long and through the wee hours of the night that they were said to have a glazed-over look in their eyes and moved with a slow, tortured and laboriously mechanical walk. Their demeanor, but not their story, was adopted by legends of voodoo curses and then in the 1930’s a white man brought the movie “White Zombie” to shock, horrify and entertain the US.  Let’s note the fact that the true story of the black sugar plantation slave was turned into fictional perversion originally intended to scare (mostly white) people. This is a horror history all it’s own.

Zombies over time went from slow and stupid to fast and clever all the while trying to eat you. Modern day creations sped up zombies- I guess because society has sped up and the slow zombies got too boring. Other modern comparisons have made reference to our phone addictions and the fact that a person can pull out a gun on a full train but no one notices because they are all on their phones. And, why look up when crossing in the crosswalk? Traffic is stopped, and it’s my turn to walk. Duh.

But, I’m going to take you somewhere else. My modern day zombie looks like a massive cultural denial of death. It’s a virus that kills life simply by not looking our own mortality in the face. It’s a virus that causes us to want to medicate every ache and pain and emotional instability. It’s a virus that makes us think we need anti-depressants when all we need is a fucking break from the speed of productivity and incessant financial torture. The Zombie Virus of Death Denial oozes into our adrenaline system entering through our post wrinkle-strip, deeply-cleansed pores or, straight though the EMRs emitting from your screen right now and causes us to want to constantly swipe to the new, the best, the beautiful and never wants to feel uncertainty or even pause. It’s a combination of the fast productivity of society, the numbing capabilities or selected emotions a phone in our pocket provides, and the ability to get meds any time that we want.

As the death doula movement sweeps North America and tries to shake life back in to our dying they have their work cut out for them. Ars moriendi is not possible with the Zombie Virus of Death Denial upon us. If we are medicated by entertainment, distraction and drugs while we are occupying healthy bodies, how will be able to cope with aging or unhealthy bodies any differently? If we were not taught the wakeful, respectful and careful care of our own mental, emotional, physical (and dear, god am I allowed to say spiritual?) health while we were young or healthy, how are we expected to do this when we are old or dying?  We will not die unmedicated like this. We will die heavily medicated if not with physician assisted suicide as the norm or die terrified that we can no longer be distracted from “the end.”

Awwwww, I know this is all a downer. And I don’t know it all- in fact, I know nothing. But neither does anyone else. We are all in this together, side by side, on the train, on our phones.  But, if we go over a bump and I look up and get the feeling that maybe you’re cool, I’ll show you the beautiful A+J video that just made me cry.

Personal note: Again, I know nothing. Except, that no matter what, I do believe that your death will be just perfect. You are perfect. Thanks for reading.