Death is always around the corner, but often our society gives it

The composer Carter Burwell, in his haunting words “Death is always around the corner, but often our society gives it inordinate help,” speaks not merely of mortality, but of the tragic complicity of humankind in hastening its own demise. His reflection carries the gravity of ancient wisdom, reminding us that death, though an eternal companion of life, should never be courted or encouraged by our own hands. It is the shadow that follows every living thing, but Burwell laments how modern civilization, through violence, neglect, greed, and indifference, has become an ally to that shadow, making death’s work far too easy.

The ancients knew that death was sacred, not to be feared, but neither to be provoked. They built rituals to honor it, not industries to feed it. Yet in our age, we have built systems that drain the soul: wars born of pride, hunger born of abundance, despair born of comparison. We poison our bodies for pleasure, our minds for profit, our planet for convenience. In doing so, we have become unwitting servants to the very force we dread. We have made death’s approach swifter, not through the natural turning of time, but through the choices of our own making.

Consider the story of Hiroshima, when a single moment of human invention unleashed a light brighter than the sun, but born not of creation, only of destruction. Tens of thousands vanished in an instant, and the survivors carried the silence of that day in their eyes. That was not death as nature intended—it was death magnified by human arrogance, inordinate help indeed. And though the decades have passed, the echo of that explosion still reminds the wise: that when humankind forgets humility, it begins to walk hand in hand with death, even while claiming to pursue progress.

But Burwell’s words extend beyond the battlefield. Look into the cities of glass and smoke, where loneliness festers amid crowds, where hearts are numbed by glowing screens, and where men and women chase illusions until their spirits grow weary. There, too, society lends death its assistance—not through violence, but through apathy. When compassion fades, when greed thrives, when we allow despair to take root unchallenged, death finds easy passage into the hearts of the living. It is not the sword that kills the most, but the slow erosion of meaning.

And yet, within this warning lies a call to awakening. To recognize that life itself is fragile is not to despair, but to be grateful. When we see death always near, we are reminded to walk gently, to speak kindly, to live intentionally. Every moment of laughter, every act of kindness, every breath of gratitude becomes an act of resistance—a declaration that though death waits patiently, we shall not hasten to meet it. To live fully is the truest defiance against a world that so often forgets to cherish its own vitality.

The great physician Albert Schweitzer once served in the jungles of Africa, healing the sick and tending to the dying. When asked why he devoted his life to such hardship, he replied that reverence for life is the only true foundation of morality. In his eyes, every creature—human, beast, or tree—was a sacred flame not to be extinguished lightly. His life became a living answer to Burwell’s lament: though death is ever near, one person’s compassion can stand as a shield against its careless advance.

Therefore, let the wise take heed. Do not feed death with bitterness, violence, or indifference. Do not be complicit in the destruction of others or of yourself. Instead, nourish life wherever you find it. Tend to the sick, comfort the broken, protect the innocent, and preserve the beauty of the earth. Every gesture of care weakens death’s hold and strengthens the light that sustains us all.

In the end, Carter Burwell’s quote is not a dirge but a reminder: that life is a sacred struggle, and we are its guardians. Death will always be near, but whether it arrives as a gentle friend or as a ravenous storm depends on how we live. If we choose kindness over cruelty, awareness over apathy, creation over destruction, then perhaps the shadow that follows us will find itself weary—outpaced, for a time, by the brilliance of human spirit.