Graffiti and the Remembrance of Death

Our mind is so darkened by the fall that unless we force ourselves to remember death we can completely forget about it. When we forget about death, then we begin to live on earth as if we were immortal, and we sacrifice all our activity to the world without concerning ourselves in the least either about the fearful transition to eternity or about our fate in eternity...On the other hand, he who often remembers the death of the body rises from the dead in soul. He lives on earth like a stranger in an inn...No earthly beauty, no earthly pleasure draws his attention or his love. He condemns no one, for he remembers that at the judgment of God such judgment will be passed on him as he passed here on his neighbors.

The Arena, by Bishop Ignatius Brianchaninov

On my train ride in this morning, I watched as a freight train lumbered along beside us on parallel tracks, headed in the same direction. We were going a little faster, so the relative speed between us provided me with a slow and colorful display of graffiti splashed up on the sides of the freight train. Graffiti normally irritates me, but not this morning. I enjoyed it. It was like a portable museum dedicated to the merciful transience of life.