Posts Tagged ‘meaning of life’

Autumn is Approaching

Monday, May 18th, 2009

I hit 44 this year. I don’t look at the age itself as anything special, other than it occurred to me the other day that I’ll probably not reach 88. Even going by average life expectancy in the US, 88 is a stretch.

I was adopted, so I have no idea my family history for longevity. I have slightly high blood pressure, currently being treated by the least objectionable poison that the medical community thrusts upon me – drawn down to below average as a result. My cholesterol is on the high side of normal and I am slightly hypoglycemic – which eases fears of diabetes and its horrid issues.

I could be a lot worse off.

In any case, it occurred to me that I’m past the middle of my summer years and looking on toward a fast approaching autumn.

Death itself is not the issue. I’ve never been afraid of the inevitable. I wouldn’t ride a motorcycle year round from age 18, if the fear of death was problematic to my mental well-being. Considering the utterly, profoundly retarded, inept drivers here in Utah, I’m basically fearless of death.

Growing decrepit, is the issue. I don’t care how long I live, as long as during that time I can function.

Quality of life is far more important to me that quantity, to the point that I’d be willing die tomorrow if that would prevent years of being a prisoner in my own body. What frightens me is that some Hippocraticly haughty physician is going to assume for my “well being” that longevity is more important than contentment. In that, I will be confined to a chemical nightmare of half-baked attempts to keep me alive, propped up as a placation to those wearing a Caduceus, who are Hell bent on defying the natural order.

In such agony, let me die, please. I don’t want to live, just to live. That defies everything I’ve lived for to this point.

My life is not exciting, nor original. It isn’t special in any way other than it is personal. However, I still want to live it on my own terms and medically forced longevity does not dwell within that goal.

That in mind, I still ponder just what it is that I want to do with my remaining time. Let’s say I make it to at least 65, that’s just two decades of time left to accomplish what I can. Even if I have another thirty years, that is hardly a long time in all. Years can pass so quickly, that those thirty years can be swallowed in a proverbial eye blink.

I’m still young enough to travel rough roads and have been giving great thought to the places on this globe which I yearn to see. The pyramids in Egypt and the Americas are there, as are the fjords of Scandinavia. The myriad wonders of Alaska have called me for a long time and I’m actively planning another attempt to motorcycle there. I’d love to sail around the globe itself, but cannot see how I could afford to.

What calls me as well are the intellectual pursuits I haven’t spent enough time on yet; books unread, writings I haven’t finished and assorted projects which have not left the drawing board. These things seem to vie for as much attention as the lust for travel.

Ultimately, I need to move as well. I am not a city person and long to live in a log home in some mountainous region – whether that be in this country or another, I haven’t fully decided. I want a property where the trees are as prolific as the grass and my nearest neighbor is a drive down the road, rather than a walk to the mailbox. I don’t mind “roughing it”, either. I consider electricity a luxury, not a staple. I’ve lived in conditions where a wood burning stove is the only source of heat and I don’t mind that one bit.

When it comes down to it, I’d be satisfied with just that much – living out the last of my days in quiet solitude (my wife included in this, of course) with but the flora and fauna to greet me in the morning. However, even to get there, I have some planning to do.

For one thing, I’m not prepared to retire, so I’ll have to find some recourse to make a living. Much of what I do professionally does not require my physical presence, but finding a job which facilitates this is not easy in spite of this. So, unless I radically change my lifestyle, I’ll most likely have to be close enough to a reasonable population center to commute there – at least for a while.

Perhaps the first step is to isolate what I need versus what I want and eliminate the completely needless. A little spring cleaning of one’s life can’t hurt in any case.

I guess some might call this a midlife crisis, but I don’t view it as a crisis at all, rather a fair assessment of possibilities.  I’m enjoying just working over the prospects and find myself a little excited over the very notion of change.  There is no worry or fear involved.  My kids are on their own now, my responsibilites are reduced to myself and my spouse – I would think it a bit silly to assume that we simply want to continue on the same beaten path as before.  It’s our time now.

The pondering continues for the moment, but I will soon have to turn such mental muses to actual planning and action. After all, there isn’t that much time left before the leaves turn and the snow falls and the years can pass in an eye blink.

All Things Foul and Ugly

Saturday, September 20th, 2008

A dear friend of mine is going through some dark times at work and home these days, which has him questioning a lot of the reasoning of how things are done by his colleagues and even family. We’ve talked on the phone about his thoughts and misgivings, but his first text message to my cell phone in this conversation, got me thinking the hardest.

“It just finally sank in that you and I take for granted or as rote, what others consider forbidden, evil or sick…”

At first glance one might take this statement the wrong way, but the meaning was clear to me. He was talking about the thin veneer of “normalcy” that people in our society like to present, sticking their heads in the proverbial sand when something rears its ugly head to prove their little preconceptions of reality to be false. He was referring to the bulk of humanity in the “first world” which staggers around in their special, imaginary “harm free zones”, pretending that somehow, someway, they are immune to injury or ill – as if some guardian angel is watching over them.

Neither my friend or I suffer from this kind of delusion. Cynical as it might be, we take for granted that there are people out there who have no kind feelings toward us or our loved ones. People who at a moment’s notice, would actively cause harm – with even a sense of glee. We know they’re all around us, hiding behind that veneer, trying their best to fit in, until they can’t stand against their impulses anymore and they strike out at someone.

We also know that nature throws things at us which are dangerous and upsetting – that we can’t possibly control. Animals who decide to know what we taste like, lightning that happens to follow the charge potential to where you’re sitting, storm winds which happen to rip the roof off the house; all striking with complete dispassion.

When these things happen to those who hide behind that veneer of normalcy, the reaction is typically out of control shock and hurt surprise. When these things happen to my friend or I, the response has always been a subdued acceptance and analysis of what steps need to be taken to correct or deal with the situation – and a rapid enactment of that decision follows. The process of thought is as cold and emotionless as that of a computer, but has the advantage of remaining clear and concise.

My thoughts turned to ask why this was? How was it we had developed this sense of acceptance that many others seem incapable of facing? Was it that we had suffered too many tragedies that cynicism set in? Or was it just part of our wiring?

Frankly, I can’t remember living behind the veneer of normalcy since I was very young. I don’t recall any tragedies happening to push my mind toward cynical acceptance of the world’s horrors. I had a good childhood. No, the attitude set in the more I read history. The patterns became apparent and constant tales of woe showed nature for its unpredictability and man for his constant expression of what can only be called, evil.

Let’s face it, for all the advances mankind achieved in the twentieth century, it was also our most violent and vicious period. The tens of millions of our own kind that we killed through war and genocide are almost too staggering a number to imagine. The weapons we’ve developed to kill each other in greater numbers are almost too efficient to believe. The more I read and the more I understood what we had done through two world wars and beyond, all painted a picture I couldn’t ignore. Mankind is less noble than he would like to believe. In fact, true nobility is few and far between. I know I can’t claim it, though I have tried to be so.

The twentieth century is why I have a hard time believing we will make it as a species past the twenty first. As we dabble with genetic engineering, nano-technology and new energies – we will turn them to ill. It’s pretty much inevitable. We’ve showed none of the needed maturity to handle our technology over the last century, so we will show the same deficiencies with the new technologies we’re now pushing.

In my own mind, it is a simple acceptance of our nature. We are apes bound by selfish instincts and jealousy, not social evolved enough to handle our inventions. Worse, the ugliest of human personalities, who crave power over others, not just their property – are drawn to the rolls of our “leaders” in society, where they scheme and play with human lives, as if playing with toy soldiers.

Many are going to read such and recoil, unable to understand how anyone could function on a day to day basis with this cold attitude about mankind. Yet, I can’t understand how anyone looking at the evidence could come to a different conclusion.

I will admit that it breeds a sense of futility. It becomes hard to motivate yourself for the common good, when you know that the impact will be fleeting at best. It’s difficult to bring yourself to contribute, when you’re pretty much convinced that it will do nothing in the larger picture.

Instead, I find myself concentrating on the care of myself and loved ones. I can do good for them which will last. I can make a difference in their lives, even if it is small in the grand scheme of things. I can do this without hurting anyone else in the process, which allows me to at least try to reach some level of nobility.

For when the world around you is filled with hatred and prejudice, you can either give in and follow suit, or hold yourself to a higher standard. Though I cannot change the world, I can change myself – and in the process bring good to at least a few around me.