I don’t mean to always be writing about a dark journey. This is where I currently am. I just don’t have time for bullshit anymore – if I ever really did.
It used to be important to me to seem like everything was fine. I hid from all except a select few. Like so many of us, most never knew my full story – they got to know what felt safe to tell them.
We grow up knowing the lay of the land, don’t we? If we want to be our true selves, we walk a narrow path. I learned to live in disguise for so much of my life.
While none of us are guaranteed another minute of life, most of us seem to live fairly long lives – in human time at least. Eventually, we have more days behind us than ahead of us, no matter how rich or well-connected we might be.
Maybe we think more urgently about our life’s purpose – if there is such a thing – or what being here means to us. Is there a point?
If you’re religious, the point is built in. You have a structure, and you never have to question anything. You follow the directions, and you’re good – safe in your salvation. Except that we’re often more complicated than that. Faith is tested – sometimes to being undone.
I was never very faithful, but I have always been faithful. A friend once told me I think about God/dess more than anyone she had ever met. It makes me laugh to think about that because I am no friend of deities. I think about it so much because I want to understand it. Who made gods and goddesses? Humans did. Maybe we need to believe. Maybe I need to believe.
But, in what? That some magical being is going to greet me when my body dies and tell me what a good job I did getting through hell?
“Fuck off” is what I will say to that being. It watched me and did nothing? It saw the shit that I and every other being on this rock slog through and thought it was okay to let us slog? Or if all it could do was watch us and hope for the best for us – what is that?
What did we gain? What is the place that we are going to that being “honed” through being alive will be useful for?
I don’t like being a pawn.
My mother thought that we’re all goddesses and gods creating this world as we go.
Roger Ebert’s last words or sentiment stayed with me. His wife said he wrote a note to her that this place is “an elaborate hoax,” or that “it’s all an illusion.”
It’s all an illusion.
What does that mean if that is true? Can you jump off and that is okay? None of this matters?
If I leave now, my son will be sad – I think. He has a whole new family now. A much better one that anything I could ever give him.
His wife’s family lives in a beautiful house on a bay of Lake Champlain. They seem to have what I wish I had had.
My son does not visit me. I am not complaining – I am noticing. I’m noticing that his preferred place is a place I would also prefer. I understand that it’s also his wife’s family home, and that is what they do – which is good. I am happy for them. I’m just saying that my absence wouldn’t be life changing.
It would be, of course, in some way. My mother’s death was life-altering for me, but my father’s death was not.
I think there was, and remains, a trauma bit left about my mother – something that my brain wiring connects to something so deep I honestly cannot describe it, but I think my son and I are clean and free from that. He does not have the trauma wiring that I have.
What a huge accomplishment that is, says my objective self.
Mostly, being free from myself is what’s important to me. I don’t know how to do that yet. It’s a work in progress. What’s important is not dragging this weight around after I leave my body (if I retain my consciousness). It’s all in my brain. And if it isn’t, then it’s all in my consciousness.
I thought that I was supposed to do something memorable in this world. But most people never do. We just live.
For the few nanoseconds (or way, way less) of eternity that I was here – if there are ever psychic archeologists – I want them to find the vestiges of love left where I walked, and lived, and was. I want them to discover that my love emanated out into the universe in a network that continues on and will never fade.
© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh), Making A Way Blog, 2010 – current