Derrida notes no context, such as death, “can determine meaning to the point of exhaustiveness (Derrida, 9).”  Derrida connects this to the notion of aporia, a block in the path of appropriation that elicits wonder/thaumazein, something “fascinating/passionne (12)” that causes us to deconstruct and reconstruct our guiding perspective, such as when the beloved traditional definition and institution of marriage tramples LGBTQ+ rights and so the definition must be deconstructed and reconstructed in a more inclusive way, or the interruption of seeing an animal rights video while eating a delicious plate of chicken wing inspires veganism. 

Derrida (13) notes Aristotle and the aporia of time.  In Aristotle’s Physics Book IV (specifically starting at Bekker 217b29 in Part 10), the “aporia” refers to a philosophical puzzle or difficulty concerning the existence and nature of time. Aristotle presents these aporiai as initial challenges to understanding time, setting the stage for his later resolution. He argues that time appears paradoxical because it seems both real and unreal, composed of elements that do not truly exist.  The conclusion is clear enough that Aristotle said without a counter there is no time, for example in boredom the book is encountered “as boring,” a stretching out of time in German, but the next person need not encounter time here at all, not bored by it.  Time flows according to perspective, the now marching into the future as calendar time, or reverse flowing out of the future, arriving in the present, and passing into the past of lived time: Christmas is coming, has arrived, has passed; feeling death approaching after a long bout with cancer.  Death interrupts the logic of examples and exemplarism because there is no referent we can experience to characterize “my death” (17; 22).  Derrida notes death could mean anything and so notes Levinas critiquing Heidegger and the tradition for defaulting to death as annihilation (13-14).  What does death mean?  What is death in general or my experience of death (25)? 

Human living is a stance toward death, though Derrida cites Heidegger on the lack of language in animals so they don’t have death apophantically, death “as” death, death “in itself” or “as such” (35-6).  We usually live “as though” the next moment won’t be denied, though it obviously could.  For example, I reach for the salt, or leave the house to drive to the store “as though” the actions will be completed, “as though” the next moment won’t be denied, though it could.  Our fundamental freedom consists in deciding where on the continuum of being-toward-death to place ourselves.  On the left pole of the spectrum we have hedonism, and as we proceed toward the middle the simple pleasures of food and friendship of carpe diem and epicureanism.  Right of middle, we have memento mori and stoicism, and in the far-right asceticism.  Our being-toward death colors our lives, and so Derrida gives the example at the end of Oedipus the King we are told we are not truly happy until death relieves us from all suffering.  Also, the apostle Paul says if the dead are not raised, we might as well indulge in food and drink for tomorrow we die – Paul who advocated crucifying the flesh and its desires to prepare for the next life.  Does this all resonate with Heidegger’s analysis of death in Being and Time? 

Yes, the ideas I describe resonate significantly with Martin Heidegger’s analysis of death in Being and Time (1927), particularly in how human existence (what Heidegger calls Dasein, or “being-there”) is fundamentally shaped by our orientation toward death. Heidegger argues that death is not merely an endpoint or event but an existential structure that defines our Being as Being-towards-death (Sein-zum-Tode). This means we always exist in relation to our own finitude, and our “stance” toward it—whether we flee from it or confront it—determines the authenticity of our lives. Our continuum from hedonism (ignoring or denying death’s immediacy) to asceticism (fully embracing preparation for it) echoes Heidegger’s distinction between inauthentic and authentic modes of existence, though Heidegger frames this more as an ontological binary rather than a gradual ethical spectrum. He emphasizes that most people live inauthentically, “as though” death is distant or irrelevant (aligning with our description of living “as though the next moment won’t be denied”), but true freedom emerges when we anticipate death authentically.

To support this, let’s draw directly from Being and Time. Heidegger introduces Being-towards-death in Division II, Chapter 1 (§46–53), where he describes death as Dasein’s “ownmost possibility”—it is non-relational (no one can die for you), not to be outstripped (it overshadows all other possibilities), and the “possibility of the absolute impossibility of Dasein” (SZ 250; references are to the German pagination). In everyday life, we typically evade this through inauthenticity, absorbed in what Heidegger calls “the they” (das Man)—the anonymous public norms and distractions that tranquilize us. For example, he notes how people talk about death in a detached way: “One dies” or “Death is certain, but not yet” (SZ 253), treating it as a general event that happens to others, not as an imminent personal possibility. This fleeing mirrors our left pole of the continuum: hedonism and even carpe diem or Epicureanism, where we are tranquil with pleasures like food and friendship to distract from mortality’s uncertainty. Heidegger writes that in this mode, Dasein “flees in the face of death” into “idle talk” and “curiosity,” losing itself in worldly concerns (SZ 298), much like living “as though” the next moment is guaranteed.

Moving toward the middle and right of our spectrum—memento mori, Stoicism, and asceticism—resonates with Heidegger’s concept of authentic Being-towards-death. Authenticity arises when Dasein confronts death through anticipation (Vorlaufen), not as morbid brooding but as “running forward” toward it (SZ 266). This anticipation individualizes us, stripping away the illusions of “the they” and revealing our finitude, which frees us to choose our possibilities resolutely. Heidegger gives the example of how death’s awareness discloses the “nullity” or nothingness at the core of existence: in the mood of anxiety (Angst), the world loses its everyday significance, and we face our “thrownness” into a finite life (SZ 186–188). Anxiety is always inconspicuous but appears at times like going back in the house to re-check the stove is off before a long trip. This is akin to memento mori practices, where remembering death prompts a Stoic-like detachment from transient pleasures to focus on what truly matters.

On the far right, asceticism aligns with Heidegger’s idea of “resoluteness” (Entschlossenheit), where Dasein “takes over” its mortality, crucifying (to borrow Pauline language – Martin Heidegger did say “I am a Christian theologian” in a letter to his student Karl Löwith dated August 19, 1921) inauthentic desires to live authentically toward its end (SZ 383–384). Heidegger illustrates this shift with how authentic Dasein, in anticipating death, achieves “self-constancy” and owns its fate, rather than being scattered by worldly indulgences (SZ 390).  Our examples further highlight the resonance. The chorus in Oedipus the King (“Call no man happy until he is dead”) echoes Heidegger’s point that death is the ultimate horizon that “not to be outstripped” (SZ 264), meaning true fulfillment or self-understanding is only possible when we project our lives against this absolute limit—happiness isn’t secure until death confirms we’ve navigated suffering authentically. Similarly, the Apostle Paul’s conditional hedonism (“Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die” from 1 Corinthians 15:32, if there’s no resurrection) parallels inauthentic fleeing into pleasures when death is seen as final annihilation, while his advocacy for “crucifying the flesh” (Galatians 5:24) for eternal preparation mirrors authentic anticipation, where death’s certainty calls us to resolute, self-denying existence. Heidegger would see Paul’s religious framework as a way of interpreting Being-towards-death: if death is the end, inauthenticity leads to indulgence; if confronted authentically, it colors life with urgency and freedom, much as Paul shifts from potential hedonism to ascetic discipline.

Heidegger doesn’t explicitly outline a “continuum” of life approaches to death, but there’s a finite sliding scale where we “decide” our position as a fundamental freedom—authenticity is a rare, decisive “moment of vision” (Augenblick) triggered by anxiety (SZ 338). Our idea that our “being-toward-death colors our lives” captures Heidegger’s core insight: death isn’t just an add-on but the ground that temporalizes all our projects, making existence either dispersed and forgetful or gathered and owned.