I was feeling somewhat introspective the other night. I don’t know what brought it on but it was inescapable. I know I had promised this group that I would try to be more up-beat and not so “poor, poor pitiful me” but in a weird, maybe twisted, maybe self-indulgent, way I feel a burden is somewhat less heavy when exposed. So I chose to write this.
I considered mortality, but through a perspective new to me. Maybe it’s the limited interaction I have with the world (due in large part to my “I didn’t need anyone” until now nature), or a basic shyness that I claim to have. But I feel alone. The independent, self-sufficient me had gotten just what he asked for. I’m reminded of that movie “Ground Hog Day” – each day is exactly like the day before and the one to come. It was this way before, but I never felt trapped by it. Even when something new comes into my life, like this group, it gets absorbed into it and becomes usual as going to Circle K and getting the mail each day. Each week becomes usual, predictable. Waking to pain, checking my blood pressure, not knowing if this will be my last day, or one of countless others.
Perhaps we all make or determine our own destiny or future or eternity. Those who believe in a life after death, one of eternity spent sitting with the saints at the right hand of God, listening to a heavenly choir or stoking the flames of hell, so it shall be. Others may envision passing into a void. Others still transcending this life and moving on toward perfection, so it shall be. We put so much effort defining our reality in the here and how (witness “It doesn’t matter to me” or “I don’t care, it’s none of my concern”). Who do we not consider making our reality in another life? After all, to realize something is just to make it real. Whatever the thought, it’s subject to rethink. My conclusions, just assumptions, all subject to my mood swings, have no place in defining the vastness of the human experience.
Forgive my arrogance in assuming I could know what philosophers and scholars have contemplated for ages.