Life has very unexpected ways of fucking with you. This past week a friend of mine, Bill Pisarri, was found dead in the subway. Early reports indicate it was non violent, probably a heart attack. He was 35.
I have been wandering around the past few days thinking about the abruptness of death. What happens to us is instantaneous and profound. We are no longer in the now. From the point of death onward we exist only in the memories of others.
Somehow we continue, through our actions in our lifetime to exist. Our works like parts of us that continue onward, they carry with them the proof of our existence, of our path through this life before the next.
Bill existed in many worlds, mingling with a very wide cross section of people. From his friends in various cities accumulated through a lifetime of creativity. Music, film, painting, much work was left scattered among his friends. Some works seen by many, other things by very few.
The record we leave as humans of our presence leaves behind a complex set of ideas about who people will think we were in our lives. Though often vary inaccurate, this shape we leave behind us still tells us that someone did something to shape the evolution of who we are as a species. From a kind gesture, to a masterpiece of art each of us has the ability to control the entire evolution of mankind in our lives.
Some, like Bill, will leave a bigger footprint on the human conscious than others. But we all are affecting it in some way, right now.