Image by Luke Brown 2015
A Brief Interlude
I have some concepts around disclousure, free markets, and evil that I'm drafting in parallel, so they are taking more time to finish. Last month I was also asked to write a eulogy for Dr. David Benaron's funeral, as David and I were good friends in the last part of his life. He meant a lot to me and I would like to share with you the eulogy in his memory.
For those that knew David,
I left a message on David's phone the day I learned of his death that simply said, “I miss you, buddy. Godspeed.” I still feel that way today. David held an outsized place in my heart - one I hadn't fully measured until his absence became permanent. From the moment I met him, I knew I wanted to call him friend. By the grace of our shared drive, we found camaraderie, joy, humor, sadness, even anger. All of this we found in a little project we labored into existence. Like any real friendship, we made time to check in. We learned more about each other's lives, how our minds worked, and ultimately how to trust each other.
When someone close to us dies, they leave behind a shadow that is cast across our future. The more woven into our routines and dependencies they are, the longer and darker that shadow grows. I once shared with David a vision of a bright summer day in the not-so-distant future, when we would stand side by side, celebrating something great we had accomplished together. I can no longer see that day. It feels as though David was a backlight illuminating the path ahead; with his passing, the shutter has closed. I can only hope that where one shutter closes, another opens. Perhaps the opputnity is in all of us gathered here today. David was a community builder with a vast and rich network and his work has drawn us together. He has brought us to this point, leaving us better for it.
David may have been the most caring person I've ever met. I didn't realize, until just after his passing, how deeply dedicated he was to those he loved. It is strange how a period on someone's life gives us the ability to seem them by the sum of thier deeds and listen for the voices that aroused the obedience of thier heart. He would have gladly bedded down with lions to protect his flock - and not just because of his fascination with big cats. His stresses and frustrations all stemmed from his endless drive to provide for others. The day I learned of David's passing, I was finally able to see his acts in context. Upon sharing what I learned with David's sister, Lisa, she regaled me with a story from his childhood:
Late one night, Lisa found herself struggling with a bit of math homework. Althought she was a bright young girl, mathematics sometimes challenged her. This challenge was not inherieted by her naturally gifted brother, David. In a moment of despiration we roused David from his much needed sleep to seek his assistance. Young David rubbed the sleep from his eyes and proceeded to review the material. Once he had determined the solution he took his time to then work with Lisa better explain the material. He did this with joy, making small quips as he played with the knowledge and presented it in a very David way.
This was who he was. He was someone who cared more for others than himself. I have a hard time reconciling his departure outside of, "he wouldn't have left us if he didn't trust that we'd be alright." When I was first getting to know David I asked him why he wore the masks; his answer, "people will smile when they see a big eyed animal mask, but they may not when they see me." David wanted to see people smile; even when it meant sweating in a furry costume for hours.
He lived life without hesitation, experimenting with everything it had to offer-even death. David has seen the inside of death before. A few years ago, he toyed with the boundary between life and deat by undergoing a type of flat-liners gathering. He shared his experience with me and I'm some what assured that whatever journey he has undertaken, he has been there before. He was biohacker is the purest sense, an immense intellect, and someone who could make you question all the choices in your life within an afternoon.
Some say life is co-authored by a cosmic trickster in search of Promethean spirits. It seeks those who reject the ordinary with their own divine creativity. David was one of those spirits. He dedicated his life to unpacking our biological systems, to postponing the inevitable fate we all face, to giving us all just a little more time. He thumbed his nose at the very concept of time, yearning to bend it to his will. He would have done well in the future to come. The irony isn't lost on me: David died as he lived, in an blissful state of his own making.
I'll leave you with a quote from George Bernard Shaw.
“We don't stop playing because we grow old. We grow old because we stop playing.”
If you're going to go, you might as well go hard.
I'm going to miss you, buddy. Godspeed.
-Joseph