I wrote this essay for a sociolinguistics class I was taking at SFSU in February 1989. In fact I turned it in five days before I met my husband. At the time I wrote it, I never imagined living long enough to someday recycle it in a class I'd be teaching or in a blog. (What's that?) But here I am, over 30 years later, still alive and kicking. Obviously, a lot has changed since then, including my rather naive spiritual views. I no longer believe everything happens for a purpose. These days, I'm more inclined to believe that shit simply happens, and our job is to try to navigate the chaos as best we can. The universe doesn't take any of us personally. Then we die.

The assignment was simple: Write an essay about an encounter you've had with death.

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Positive Thoughts

It is rather hard to write about an encounter I've had with death while lying in the sun on one of my favorite beaches of the Big Sur Coast. It is rather odd to be thinking about death in conjunction with a class I'm taking towards a Master's Degree in English. I suppose it's not so unusual to think about dying while falling asleep late at night. These are all places where I've encountered death, for I encounter my own death every moment that I'm alive.

I first tested positive for the HIV virus three years ago. According to the most recent figures and statistics, I should be dead in four to ten years. So why the hell am I working on Master‘s Degree?

When I first tested positive to the antibodies of the virus which causes AIDS, the common belief was "it doesn‘t mean anything" and "this is not a death sentence." However, in the, three years since that time the statistical curve has continued its upward climb in an exponential manner. Time has made it apparent that now at least 80% of those infected with the virus do eventually go on to develop full-blown cases of AIDS, which ultimately leads to death. It just takes some of us longer than others.

Outside of a very minor case of thrush four months ago ("...even people who aren't HIV positive get this," my doctor told me), I have remained asymptomatic. I feel just fine. I certainly have no constant physical reminders that the aforementioned statistics apply to me. I can't say that I even spend much time in daily thought about these things; yet the specter of death remains a perennial possibility in my life, a potential reality I can't ignore which hides in those gray fuzzy recesses barely below the threshold of consciousness.

The New Age Thinkers tell us that our continued good health is dependent on not only sensible physical care, but effective psychological, emotional and spiritual maintenance as well. Our physical health is a direct manifestation of our emotional well-being. "Dis-ease" is a result of an internal imbalance. It's only a thought, and thoughts can be changed. I must not think bad thoughts. Positive thoughts.

Thinking about death when you're 26

Positive thoughts

Thinking positive thoughts about death when you're 26

About lost fathers   
whom you never thanked For teaching you to walk strong
Like a man, you loved so much.

About your lovers,

In their foreign lands, away from you

You reach too high, and listen for their alibi

Positive thoughts

About hospital beds and needles in my arms

Doctors, drugs, and forced hallucinations

About pain, about fear,

About fuck you

About I love you

About dying when you‘re 36
Positive thoughts

I rattled those words off the top of my head about two years ago as lyrics to a song (for which the music is just as morose, as well as a blatant rip-off of Phillip Glass, but that's another essay...) They pretty much sum up how I feel about the New Age Thinkers. Much of what they say I do believe. I do believe that maintaining a positive holistic approach to life is what keeps us well; but I am too much of a pessimist, or realist as the case may be, to not pay attention to the numbers generated by this epidemic. So I walk a razor's edge, a fine line between an image a future filled with good health and prosperity, and an image of an early death. Lean too far to one side and I could easily become moribund, resigned to what fate surely has in store for me, devoid of any will to continue living. Lean too far to the other side, however, and I could rosily trot through life unconscious of what‘s going on in my body, blind to what fate may have in store for me, blissfully unaware that life ever ends sooner than we expect. Fortunately I've developed an excellent sense of balance and am undaunted by walking on a razor's edge. I am blessed with a warm and caring support system which, along with my spiritual beliefs, allows me to live my life in a state of relative calm and centeredness.

Those who know me well enough to know of my HIV status, but haven't known me long enough to understand my core of acceptance are bewildered by my seeming detachedness from it all. "I'd be freaked out!!!" By what, I always wonder? It's not that I'm resigned to dying of AIDS at the age of 36; it‘s just that I'm not that attached to living in this body. I believe that the soul continues to live even after the body dies, which takes a lot of the pressure off of holding on to this lifetime as our only shot at "getting it right". We chose to incarnate into these particular lives because they held lessons our individual spirits needed to learn. Perhaps my spirit, for whatever reasons, needs to encounter the experience of an early death, or perhaps my parents must undergo the loss of one of their children. The changes occurring in the lives of my loved ones and myself indicate that a rapid acceleration of understanding and growth is already happening. This direct confrontation with my own mortality has given me a true appreciation for each moment of life that I'm granted. I  actually feel privileged when I look around at most other 27-year-old graduate students, locked into such a future-oriented pattern of living, in a self-perceived state of immunity from death. Observing them, I know that having this disease does have its benefits, that it has increased my awareness of what is truly valuable in my life.

I do believe that everything happens for a purpose, and if the "Good Lord decides to call me home" a little earlier than anticipated, well then who the hell am I to question it? We all gotta go sometime, right? If I do die when I'm 36, I won't feel like I've been cheated by life. I feel I've always tried to do right by my sisters and brothers on this planet, and I've been fortunate to already see and do a lot of things that many people never do in a "full" lifetime. On the other hand, I can‘t help wondering how much more I can accomplish in this lifetime if I live to be 90. But I am accepting of whatever comes my way, and believe that whatever happens, happens.