Month: January 2016

What would 20 year old me think of who I’ve become?

Certainly, it’s safe to say neither of us would recognize each other.  He wouldn’t imagine any common link with me, and I in turn would remember this figure through a dimly lit fog of memory.  I do know that who I was wouldn’t be able to extrapolate a future that ended up as me.  I am pretty sure I also wouldn’t want to be who I am now; that kind of dramatic transition is like a cold shower, and I remember how desperately I held on to my sense of self, my identity.

Looking backwards, I do not regret at all, other than the inordinant amount of time it took to go from there to here.  Could I not have done this perhaps a little faster?  Well, indeed, not.  This was a long road, with more than a few mis-steps along the way.

Standing now at roughly the halfway mark, I wonder if I can fit all of my plans into the time remaining.  ‘Time enough’ — how do you quantify that?  I am horribly greedy at this stage in my life, and I would say ‘forever’.. and then wonder.

What will I say in 10 years? in 20? As i round the bend towards the end of this trip?  I suspect my answer will change as I get closer to the end, and I am glad I have not been asked.  One day I’m sure I’ll be glad for the end of all things, for the final end of the noise that is ‘I’.  Today’s not that day.

For now there is much joy and happiness to be had.

Desiderata

— written by Max Ehrmann in the 1920s —

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

From time to time I hear the sound of engines.  Big ones.  It seems as if they shake the room, shake the air.  It sounds almost like a huge machine idling nearly.  I hear it sometimes when I’m going to sleep, and when i shake my head to listen closer, it vanishes.

One night it had me wondering as I drifted off to sleep, if this wasn’t all an illusion.  If the noise was perhaps the only real part of this experience, as I lay dreaming in my stasis pod, drifting among the stars.  Rocked to sleep by the sound of mighty engines.

 

You are reading this.  Your eyes scan the lines of text word by word, and assemble them into meaning.  A collection of shapes agreed upon to make sounds which transform into language, thoughts, dreams and ideas.

Who is reciting this to you?  Who is that voice you hear who is reading out these words as if reading a story to a young child?  Is it a man? A woman?  Are they old, or young?  Do they have an accent, or a manner of speaking?  Is it you?  Are you sure?

Certainly that voice isn’t the same all the time.. it is an impressive mimic.  It sings you that song you heard on the radio last week.  It plays back the conversation you had with your boss, with your lover, with your ex-best friend.  It speaks to you in the voice of your parents, your peers, and your worst enemies.  Sometimes it lavishes you with previous praise.  Sometimes it cuts you down with a remembered slight made fresh.

Is that really you? It’s certainly not your conscious mind — why would you run so far out of control, like a hyperactive child who refuses to go down for a nap?  Your subconscious?  Who is that then?  It doesn’t have the same goals as you, certainly not the same motivations.  You can’t make it be quiet on command, nor in many important moments.

This stranger in your head, who are they?  That voice, when it’s not reciting something back to you like a parrot – whose voice is that? Would you recognize it if you heard it on the outside?

I’ve wondered if this voice doesn’t yell, or scream in fact at some people.  Nothing says this voice is (or is bound to be) benign.  Is that really you thinking that thought, or just listening and accepting?

 

I was hoping to find a few items and place them here.  I went back through almost the whole year, and I found a lot of moments that resonated.  Remembering how much I appreciate friends.  All of the printers I made.  The bears that wandered into our backyard to eat, then wrestle, and finally be captured by conservation officers, and taken away to be killed.  My last moments with my cat shamus, after I brought him in to the vet for the last time, just ahead of the cancer eating him alive.

I did not find the bits I expected to find however, and so I’m going to place them into the next few posts.  I don’t know why they didn’t surface, perhaps they were bigger in my head than I ever wrote down?