Dismemberment

“…dismemberment calls forth fertility and resurrection, freeing libido by breaking down defensive structures until only the bones the personality remain, upon which a new body is created.”- Taschen’s “The Book of Symbols: Reflections On Archetypal Images

Death was the first one to swim in the brackish waters, the first one to write epistles on impermanence, the first one to have coitus with Kali, the first one to dive head first into the abyss, and the first one to die and get back up again. Death: the true pioneer. Everyone else followed him. He was like Jesus for some time. Actually, he was like all religious forefathers.

Huge crowds used to gather in his lugubrious court for sermons that used to last seasons. He used to talk about everything: politics, children, sunspots, horticulture, permaculture, medusa, monsters older than time, prudery, etc… His voice was deep sometimes. Sibilant sometimes. Sometimes he addressed the jostling crowds in his boxer shorts.

Of all the topics that interested Death, dismemberment interested him the most. He made an important distinction between “physical dismemberment” and “symbolic dismemberment”. The former was sadistic and demented. The latter was psychological and highly personal.

Death on physical dismemberment:

“Flying limbs, blood splattered everywhere, severed heads, eviscerated guts, and more flying limbs. The mentally sick consider this art. I call it madness.”

Death on symbolic dismemberment:

“This happens during the Dark Night of the Soul. The phantasms that sleep within the chasms of the Deep Mind wake up and rise up like insidious wisps. The phantasms rip apart the rational mind and then restructure it. This could also be called ‘psychic transfiguration’.”

While delivering one of his long-winded sermons one morning, a couple fans of Death approached his gloomy platform. They carried a wheelbarrow filled with scattered guts and mangled organs. “Master Death,” they said. “Is this confused mixture of putrescent parts characteristic of physical death or symbolic death?” Death stopped speaking to a throng of vulture-headed beings and a copse of sinister nightshade. He dragged his hand through the mess, tasted the blood, inspected the intestines, and perused the severed head. “Symbolic death,” he finally answered after a thorough inspection. “How can you tell, master?” the ardent fans asked, synchronously. Death then raised the confused mixture, rolled it into a cocoon, and tossed it into the air. In midair, the cocoon burst open and unleashed a radiant butterfly.

“With physical death, there is only rot and decay. With symbolic death, the scattered parts can be reassembled into something beautiful. It takes a trained eye to see the difference.”

And with that being said, Death addressed the vulture-headed beings and launched into an impromptu sermon on the merits of changing diapers in all the multifaceted dimensions of existence.