I wake up every day looking at Death, and you know what? He ain’t half bad.
—Doc Holliday, Wyatt Earp
Its not until you lose everything that you are free to do anything.
—Tyler Durden, Fight Club
I used to take pride in the fact that I felt like I could die satisfied any day. I was at a place in my life where I couldn’t ask for more, and there was a tremendous sense of overall satisfaction. I had everything that I deserved. After that, all I had left to experience, every fall morning caught or tear shed, was a bonus. Of course, the closest I had ever come to death was a minor case of pneumothorax, which I imagine is as fatal as pinching one’s skin between two Lego pieces while building the Death Star, so this feeling was never actually put to the test. I’m sure I’d feel differently if I ever came frighteningly close to the end of my life, although just how much remains a mystery.
Perhaps this grew from a cogent sense of frailty, perpetuated by all the stories of freak accidents echoed throughout the media. The student who impaled his heart on a number 2 pencil while trying to catch a football in the middle of class. The general who drowned in a pool of his own blood from a nosebleed on his wedding night. Even the president of the United States almost choked to death on a pretzel. To distance myself was the only way I could deal with it.
The problem, I’ve only recently discovered, was that this left me alienated and unattached. I have no dreams, nothing to live for. Not even a goal to work towards. During high-school, the goal was to get into a university. After university, the goal was to get a fulfilling job. After the job was the house. Now that I own a house, it feels like the rest of my life has been laid out in front of me. No risks, no surprises. I appreciate everything that I’ve been given, but it feels like it’s been a little too easy. Even my most significant goal was rather suddenly accomplished this year. As Logan Pearsall Smith once wrote in his book Afterthoughts, “How many of our daydreams would darken into nightmares if there seemed any danger of their coming true!”. A simultaneous fulfillment and dissatisfaction.
I presented this problem to Pat, and from his infinite wisdom (at 24, no less) I realized that one should never live for what might happen. Otherwise, a person would go crazy. Of course, to truly live this way, it doesn’t hurt to be a bit of a fatalist. Having this belief means that one can only do the best that they can, and to go means that it was meant to be.
For now, I’ve been keeping myself occupied, until I can figure out what I want in the last rest of my life. Blessed is the person who is too busy to worry in the daytime and too sleepy to worry at night. It’s only now that I’ve discovered that I need a few dreams to survive.
And I can only hope to never reach them.
The Awakening Series
- Introduction
- Cause
- The Reborn Dreamer
Thank God, the older you get the more you realize that worry does chase things away. I delegate natural born worriers to do most of my worrying for me. So I can save mine for quality worrying time. The meds help too I think.:)
Life gets more liveable when you’ve faced more days and as long as you can say *No one is going to die and we’re still going to eat tomorrow* there’s not much worth losing sleep over.
It’s hard to worry if you’re looking at the stars, trees, and flowers.
I hope your worries go find someone else to bother for a while.
me-Liz
May you realize more dreams.
Good luck to you.
Thank you.
I think you’re right, ME. Every day I’m realizing more and more the importance of time as a source of experience and wisdom. Everything seems to fix itself if I wait long enough. This means that I’m also realizing how impatient I’ve been, in my relationships, my search for answers, and my goals (which may be why I’ve lost/achieved them so quickly).
Sometimes, you just need to take a step back, breathe, and enjoy the cliché, simple things.
I came pretty close to death twice, in both cases I was willing ready and able to go. Dying’s easy, it’s living that’s sometime difficult.
I don’t think that you should bother with “rest of your life” I think that when I was in high school I did think of being adult as one huge chunk of time in which no choices are made and life just drift toward their end slowly and the same. Now that I am an adult, I realize that the more grow and evolve the more rich and complex and challenging and interesting life becomes, they change, all the time. Planning for the rest of your life’s futile — nothing last that long, you will change a million times in that course of time, and so your will will change a million times as well.
We keep looking for some ultimate answer to the “what do I want?” question cause making choices and being aware is so difficult, but it’s what makes us human, it what able us to go own growing and becoming more and more of ourselves as we can.
How about instead of trying to find out what you want to do with the rest of your life, try finding out what you want to do next week? It’s a much more complex question suince unlike the rest of your life — this have practical implications.
It’s also hard to worry if you’re looking at the stars, trees, and flowers through the haze of alcohol. Speaking of which, I need a drink.
Lilly, I’ve always been a long-term thinker. The short term is easy for me, but I need a long-term goal to work towards. Otherwise, I’ll always be looking for the next thing to do when I finish one thing, constantly scared of running out. A goal in the long term is something that can keep driving me, something that can account for all the effort I make now.
And Trolley…
Hahahhahahahahahahahahahahahha