April 2, 2011 § Leave a comment
Dead bodies are strange things. We don’t often speak of them because, well, maybe instinct drives us away from the corpse for all the diseases it can carry, or else we hold a natural aversion to the very idea of their unfathomable immobility. I’ve often heard that this aversion could also stem from the notion that a corpse is no longer that which it was. The idea that, like a growing hermit-crab leaves a shell in the sand behind for a roomier, more comfortable fit, so too do our souls.
As a non-believer in gods and monsters, I have always permitted the soul to be a somewhat archaic and idealistic concept, figuring we are more like sand crabs who live and die within their own soft shells. Yet I have never thought much about the impact this has (if any) on looking upon a dead body, or in fact grieving the absence of life within it.