Atomic: The D. H. Lawrence Memorial Post (2021)

 

Jo Davidson's clay bust of D. H. Lawrence made four days before the 

latter's death on 2 March 1930. Lawrence judged the result mediocre; 

others have since found it slightly macabre.

 

 

I. 

 

Tomorrow is the 92nd anniversary of the death of D. H. Lawrence. 

 

That's quite a long time ago: long enough, I'm guessing, for a fair few of his atoms to have penetrated me, you, and everybody else on the planet, making us all neo-Lawrentians at some infinitesimal level - just as, indeed, we are all the other names in history (Louis XIV didn't know the half of it).   

 

I've written elsewhere on Torpedo the Ark about atomic reincarnation and how even the dead don't rest in peace [click here]. But it's a subject that, as a thanatologist, I never tire of and which I'm always happy to resurrect given the opportunity. 

 

So, once more unto the grave dear friends ...   

 

 

II. 

 

In February 1923, Lawrence famously consoled a grieving friend: "The dead don't die. They look on and help." [1] 

 

And, for the most part, that's true ...

 

For whilst the dead don't look on - obviously - they never really die because the atoms that made them are immortal: they are in the food you eat, the water you drink, the air you breathe, etc. It's a category error to equate the personal death of the individual with non-being. 

 

And, in as much as the dead lend us their atoms, I suppose they could be said, in a very real sense, to help us. 

 

 

III.

 

Now, as Jennifer Aniston used to say, here comes the science bit - concentrate ... 

 

According to the theoretical astrophysicist Ethan Siegel, one out of every 2.1 × 10^16 hydrogen atoms and one out of every 2.6 × 10^16 oxygen atoms in your body was formerly in any dear departed individual you care to name. 

 

That maybe doesn't sound like a lot, until you remember that "there are 4.3 × 10^27 hydrogen atoms and 1.7 × 10^27 oxygen atoms in a typical human body" [2]. Which means that there are approximately 200 billion hydrogen atoms and 65 billion oxygen atoms gathered from dead souls.

 

Siegel further notes that, because atoms are so outrageously numerous, if you do the maths you'll discover that "approximately one atom in everyone's lungs, at any moment" [3], came from D. H. Lawrence on his death bed as he exhaled his final breath.

 

And you thought coronavirus was the only thing to worry about in your respiratory system ...

 

 

Notes

 

[1] D. H. Lawrence, letter to John Middleton Murry (2 Feb 1923), in The Letters of D. H. Lawrence, Vol IV, ed. Warren Roberts, James T. Boulton and Elizabeth Mansfield, (Cambridge University Press, 1987), p. 375.     

[2] Ethan Siegal, 'Ask Ethan: How Many Atoms Do You Share With King Tut?', Forbes, (14 May, 2016): click here to read online.

 

[3] Ibid. 

 

 

Even the Dead Don't Rest in Peace

Georges Bataille was not mistaken when he spoke of death as a shipwreck into the nauseous and repeatedly emphasized the excremental nature of the corpse which, thanks to putrefaction, rapidly dissolves into noxious base matter. 

First to go, as home to the greatest number of bacteria, are the digestive organs and the lungs. The brain also soon liquifies, as it is nice and soft and easy to digest. The massively expanding numbers of bacteria in the mouth chew through the palate and transform grey matter into goo. Quite literally, it runs out of the ears and bubbles like snot from the nose; in this manner, we're all destined to lose our minds. 

After three or four weeks, all of the internal organs will have become soup. Muscle tissue is frequently eaten not only by bacteria, but also by carnivorous beetles. Sometimes the skin gets consumed as well, sometimes not. Depending on the weather and other environmental conditions, it might just dry out and naturally mummify. Whatever remains, however, will be obliged to lie in a stinking pool of organic filth, or a coffin full of shit. 

Burial might serve to prolong the process of decomposition, but it certainly doesn't prevent it or delay it indefinitely. As Mary Roach in her amusing study, Stiff (2003), writes: "Eventually any meat, regardless of what you do to it, will whither and go off." Only the skeletal structure beneath the soft pathology of the flesh will last for any significant period of time. But bones too - just like laws and monuments - are ultimately destined to crumble into dust.

Thus we have little real choice but to accept the biological fact that life dies. But is this the end of the story? No. The truth is, we never stop dying because, in a material, non-personal, inhuman manner, we never stop living. In other words, it's mistaken to confuse our individual death with non-being.

"Is it because we want to believe in the loyalty of our substance that we make this peculiar equation?" asks Nick Land.* Probably the answer to this is yes. But it's a somewhat shameful answer. 

For whether we like to believe it or not, matter is always struggling to escape essence and to abandon complex existence; always seeking to return to a state of inanimate and blissful simplicity. Our bodies have no allegiance to life and do not seek to stave off disintegration or shut out death. They grow into the embrace of the latter (we term this ageing) and our mass of atoms enjoy a veritable orgy of delight after having broken free from their temporary entrapment in life.

Unfortunately for them, they don't get to enjoy their freedom for long. For death proves to be but a "temporary refreshment ... before the rush back into the compulsive dissipation of life".* Which is to say, atoms are so vigorously recycled at death that they don't ever get to rest in peace. 

It further means that we, the living, all house and reincarnate the carbon atoms of the departed and in this way the souls of the dead might be said to re-enter and pervade the souls of the living. Thanks to the conservation of mass, we can legitimately declare ourselves to be 'all the names in history'.    

* See: Nick Land, The Thirst for Annihilation, (Routledge, 1992), p. 180.