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- Марк Мэнсон
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- Тонкое искусство пофигизма
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- Стр. 112/115
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My
body
shudders
,
the
fear
becoming
euphoric
and
blinding
.
I
focus
my
mind
and
clear
my
thoughts
in
a
kind
of
meditation
.
Nothing
makes
you
present
and
mindful
like
being
mere
inches
away
from
your
own
death
.
I
straighten
up
and
look
out
again
,
and
find
myself
smiling
.
I
remind
myself
that
it
’
s
all
right
to
die
.
This
willing
and
even
exuberant
interfacing
with
one
’
s
own
mortality
has
ancient
roots
.
The
Stoics
of
ancient
Greece
and
Rome
implored
people
to
keep
death
in
mind
at
all
times
,
in
order
to
appreciate
life
more
and
remain
humble
in
the
face
of
its
adversities
.
In
various
forms
of
Buddhism
,
the
practice
of
meditation
is
often
taught
as
a
means
of
preparing
oneself
for
death
while
still
remaining
alive
.
Dissolving
one
’
s
ego
into
an
expansive
nothingness
—
achieving
the
enlightened
state
of
nirvana
—
is
seen
as
a
trial
run
of
letting
oneself
cross
to
the
other
side
.
Even
Mark
Twain
,
that
hairy
goofball
who
came
in
and
left
on
Halley
’
s
Comet
,
said
,
“
The
fear
of
death
follows
from
the
fear
of
life
.
A
man
who
lives
fully
is
prepared
to
die
at
any
time
.
”
Back
on
the
cliff
,
I
bend
down
,
slightly
leaning
back
.
I
put
my
hands
on
the
ground
behind
me
and
gently
lower
myself
onto
my
butt
.
I
then
gradually
slide
one
leg
over
the
edge
of
the
cliff
.
There
’
s
a
small
rock
jutting
out
of
the
cliff
side
.
I
rest
my
foot
on
it
.
Then
I
slide
my
other
foot
off
the
edge
and
put
it
on
the
same
small
rock
.
I
sit
there
a
moment
,
leaning
back
on
my
palms
,
wind
ruffling
my
hair
.
The
anxiety
is
bearable
now
,
as
long
as
I
stay
focused
on
the
horizon
.
Then
I
sit
up
straight
and
look
down
the
cliff
again
.
Fear
shoots
back
up
through
my
spine
,
electrifying
my
limbs
and
laser
-
focusing
my
mind
on
the
exact
coordinates
of
every
inch
of
my
body
.
The
fear
is
stifling
at
times
.
But
each
time
it
stifles
me
,
I
empty
my
thoughts
,
focus
my
attention
on
the
bottom
of
the
cliff
below
me
,
force
myself
to
gaze
at
my
potential
doom
,
and
then
to
simply
acknowledge
its
existence
.
I
was
now
sitting
on
the
edge
of
the
world
,
at
the
southern
-
most
tip
of
hope
,
the
gateway
to
the
east
.
The
feeling
was
exhilarating
.
I
can
feel
the
adrenaline
pumping
through
my
body
.
Being
so
still
,
so
conscious
,
never
felt
so
thrilling
.
I
listen
to
the
wind
and
watch
the
ocean
and
look
out
upon
the
ends
of
the
earth
—
and
then
I
laugh
with
the
light
,
all
that
it
touches
being
good
.
Confronting
the
reality
of
our
own
mortality
is
important
because
it
obliterates
all
the
crappy
,
fragile
,
superficial
values
in
life
.
While
most
people
whittle
their
days
chasing
another
buck
,
or
a
little
bit
more
fame
and
attention
,
or
a
little
bit
more
assurance
that
they
’
re
right
or
loved
,
death
confronts
all
of
us
with
a
far
more
painful
and
important
question
:
What
is
your
legacy
?
How
will
the
world
be
different
and
better
when
you
’
re
gone
?
What
mark
will
you
have
made
?
What
influence
will
you
have
caused
?
They
say
that
a
butterfly
flapping
its
wings
in
Africa
can
cause
a
hurricane
in
Florida
;
well
,
what
hurricanes
will
you
leave
in
your
wake
?
As
Becker
pointed
out
,
this
is
arguably
the
only
truly
important
question
in
our
life
.
Yet
we
avoid
thinking
about
it
.
One
,
because
it
’
s
hard
.
Two
,
because
it
’
s
scary
.
Three
,
because
we
have
no
fucking
clue
what
we
’
re
doing
.
And
when
we
avoid
this
question
,
we
let
trivial
and
hateful
values
hijack
our
brains
and
take
control
of
our
desires
and
ambitions
.
Without
acknowledging
the
ever
-
present
gaze
of
death
,
the
superficial
will
appear
important
,
and
the
important
will
appear
superficial
.
Death
is
the
only
thing
we
can
know
with
any
certainty
.
And
as
such
,
it
must
be
the
compass
by
which
we
orient
all
of
our
other
values
and
decisions
.
It
is
the
correct
answer
to
all
of
the
questions
we
should
ask
but
never
do
.
The
only
way
to
be
comfortable
with
death
is
to
understand
and
see
yourself
as
something
bigger
than
yourself
;
to
choose
values
that
stretch
beyond
serving
yourself
,
that
are
simple
and
immediate
and
controllable
and
tolerant
of
the
chaotic
world
around
you
.
This
is
the
basic
root
of
all
happiness
.
Whether
you
’
re
listening
to
Aristotle
or
the
psychologists
at
Harvard
or
Jesus
Christ
or
the
goddamn
Beatles
,
they
all
say
that
happiness
comes
from
the
same
thing
:
caring
about
something
greater
than
yourself
,
believing
that
you
are
a
contributing
component
in
some
much
larger
entity
,
that
your
life
is
but
a
mere
side
process
of
some
great
unintelligible
production
.
This
feeling
is
what
people
go
to
church
for
;
it
’
s
what
they
fight
in
wars
for
;
it
’
s
what
they
raise
families
and
save
pensions
and
build
bridges
and
invent
cell
phones
for
:
this
fleeting
sense
of
being
part
of
something
greater
and
more
unknowable
than
themselves
.
