Perhaps it is the memory of birth that is the source of our human fear of death. What we fear is separation. What I desire is containment; I desire to be contained and protected from something outside my sphere. I live inside a protective bubble; the bubble is my mother, or, the other. To separate from my bubble is to lose myself; to lose my mother or the other is to lose myself.

In paradise the bubble is free; after the fall you have to work for it, you have to construct it and maintain it. I was expelled from the garden of my delight, and now I must plant and weed, and protect my garden from the chaos that is always just beyond the border, just beyond my bubble. Myfamily is mybubble in reality; the family of man; the species is familial. We are all mother/father/sister/brother.

Death is separation from myfamily, another fall from another bubble; the catastrophe repeated. Do I fall into another bubble or do I, this time, fall into the wilderness outside all bubbles?