Friday, October 18, 2013
Mums the word
Now that we are past this most recent political crisis I can have some comfort in knowing that someday I will die.
Okay, I’m not trying to scare anyone. I’ve got years of living I hope to live. I have two boys I need to help become men, though they seem to need less and less each day. I have a new bride and plan to spend many years with her. We are in our mid (or is it late?) 40s. Hopefully we have 30 or so more with good health and stamina. I still want to hike the Appalachian Trial, bottom to top, and, with luck, meet my grandchildren. So I’m not planning on leaving this planet, not just yet.
I don’t dwell on death as much these days as I did after Amy died. I think that is a good thing, mostly. I can’t say I’m “cured” of my existential spirals and occasional wonderings about “what is the point of it all.” Especially these past couple weeks listening to the oratory from what count as our Nation's Statesmen (aside: it is mostly men and they are NOT helping advance our gender's cause at all). Anyway, this past politica-pocalypse was enough to start me spiraling again. As much anguish we just went through, will it really matter in a year? 10 years? How about 1000? In 3013 will historians, assuming there are historians, study this month and draw the great arch of that future civilization from here? Or will it even register a footnote in a multi-volume analysis of post Cold-War America. I guess a footnote would be nice.
But does it even matter if we get a footnote or not? Baring some amazing medical miracle I’ll be dead, as will you, dear reader. Sorry for the downer. And writing these last 3 sentences is exactly how I get pulled past the event horizon into one of my existential black holes.
Not today! I’m not going to let the specter of my future death get me down. Forget about death – I’m
I’m looking out the back window of my home office. The white mums I bought yesterday from the hardware store on sale for $4.99 are glowing with the dawn’s first light. The muggy, cloudy rain from last night has passed on to somewhere else and the fragrance of fall floats in the crisp coolness of today. Tonight my new bride returns from a week away at a workshop. This is the day that God, or Love, or the Buddha, or Neil deGrasse Tyson has granted me. This array of atoms, called John, is still alive and self-aware. That seems pretty amazing when I think about it.
What’s not to love about life?