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Brief Lives
May. 22nd, 2011 09:22 pmWhen I was three, I wondered at how my mind came to be stuck in my body. Now that I'm nearly 36, I still wonder at it, though differently. Then, I was startled by the revelation of self-awareness. Now, I am startled by the awareness that my existence is more than a third over.
This awareness resonates for me differently depending on my mood. Sometimes, it's frightening because I want to continue to exist. It's particularly frightening when I'm aware of the evidence of the damage: in gray hairs, wrinkles, creaky joints, my bad foot, my bad shoulders.
On the other hand, as time goes by, I better understand why the people who most impress us with their selfless love and joy in the world are often the very old or terminally ill (if they are not actively in great physical distress). Often, I've heard it said how remarkable it is that this or that child dying of leukemia is such a mature and good-willed, happy person. It's not really so remarkable.
The end of life requires one to stop planning the future and live quintessentially in the moment. But more than that, it brings an awareness of your connectedness to the billions of years that have gone before you and the billions of years that will pass after your death. It is the radical selflessness of being taken outside of yourself into the world in which you exist as a speck and finally must prepare to surrender yourself to your minute role in its immense wonder.
This awareness resonates for me differently depending on my mood. Sometimes, it's frightening because I want to continue to exist. It's particularly frightening when I'm aware of the evidence of the damage: in gray hairs, wrinkles, creaky joints, my bad foot, my bad shoulders.
On the other hand, as time goes by, I better understand why the people who most impress us with their selfless love and joy in the world are often the very old or terminally ill (if they are not actively in great physical distress). Often, I've heard it said how remarkable it is that this or that child dying of leukemia is such a mature and good-willed, happy person. It's not really so remarkable.
The end of life requires one to stop planning the future and live quintessentially in the moment. But more than that, it brings an awareness of your connectedness to the billions of years that have gone before you and the billions of years that will pass after your death. It is the radical selflessness of being taken outside of yourself into the world in which you exist as a speck and finally must prepare to surrender yourself to your minute role in its immense wonder.
