When I spent lots of time with very very old intelligent people, I didn’t feel their age until one day. One said about her ‘nothing to look forward to’ in her life and saw how that feeling resonated right away with the others. That moment sank deep into my heart and made me sad.
I often think back those words after that day. They came out of nowhere… when I halted my step to blankly look at the top of a tree on the walk of my dog, when I woke up in the morning watching my face in the mirror in my bathroom, when I waited for my occasional date to be happening soon… as if those words stuck somewhere inside me and had to show their presence up to my consciousness.
That concept became my worst fear of my aging.
Not the physical weakness or the deformation of my body, not the vulnerability to sickness or pain, not the vicinity to death… but the state that I have nothing to look forward to in living.
However, it already arrived even before I hit old age.
I don’t have anything to look forward to by the forced circumstance… I pretend my calm in the swamp of nothing-to-look-forward-to-ness now…. silently screaming.
It’s funny to think about…
I couldn’t get enough distance from the humans in my past. I finally started to like being around with some human beings, and then, life arranged the distance from them.
Six feet away now,
then… six feet under… someday.
Time kills everything.
So, do not worry.
We are collectively killing time.
The virus will be gone eventually along with everything else.
Choose to live a bit.
eerie… that’s the word I’ve been looking for…
I don’t have any opinion about this… about this disturbing epidemic… any thought, any new news unlike others… I just feel… when I walk the streets that I’ve walked hundreds of times before… fully empty air… brewing from the lifeless roads surrounded by the houses… the houses full of people, very quiet people.
Life hasn’t stopped. It got stuck.
Only optical lights vigilantly traveling through narrow cables to connect the things…. the things virtually real… the real that hides under a white cover hugging the frozen. It’s okay, I say… it’s all okay.
I wish that everyone already read “The Stone Raft” by Jose Saramago. It’s one of kind Saramago’s famous ‘what if’ tale. When uncertainty creeps in and fear takes over, what people do. But still, there was a handful number of people who lived their lives in his story no matter what.
There are many sicknesses that might take your life right away or in a few months or in a few years. A very few people around me know that I’m a cancer survivor. If you got really sick not knowing if you would die or live and didn’t know why you got that (there was no virus to blame even…), it might be devastating. Every diagnostic exam in the hospital put you in a dark doubting place continuously. I learned my lesson under that shadow.
All I want to say now… do not live fear! Do live your life when you have it!
When she moved to this house (looking like a big treehouse), she put her bed in the middle of the living room upstairs which had the wrap-around wall-to-wall windows to South and West. It felt a little awkward when she had occasional visitors and guests but mostly it worked fine.
She got the window coverings a couple of months ago way after the trees surrounding the house had become bare and she could see all the way to the other sides of the hills (the other way around might be also true… people could look inside of the house from pretty far away at night).
When she sleeps, she doesn’t pull the window screen all the way down. She left a couple of them halfway open, so she can see the black silhouettes of trees in the smoky dark blue background of the night when she lies down on her bed. Then, she listens… she listens to the trees’ whispering interpretation of signals of the universe. The language silent and secretive, vibrating songs of night fairies. She falls asleep…. listening… as night becomes dawn.
Material is important, I know. I get to eat and need a roof over my head. Maybe I need more than that. I’m very used to the convenience of living that money can offer to me. But… that’s not all.
Something non-materialistic makes me very happy. Like the birthday song that surprised me after a yoga class sung by the people who had just taken my class. Like a wagging fluffy tail of my dog digging his nose in the snow with his butt up high. Like the text messages from whom had left town but still residing space in me somewhere. Glancing a hawk among the snowy trees… it must be hard to live in this weather, waiting… waiting for the storm pass. The glowing full moon floating up over my head like a big round biscuit that I used to love when I was a kid. Reading my old lines of writing and loving them again… I know I need money… I need to figure out how to live… how to get a sustainable income… but on the other hand, it really doesn’t matter… at some point.
If beauty can overflow between my fingers when I hold something in my hands, that will be it. All that I’ve looked for in my life… I’ll watch it with the tearful eyes and the bursting heart by joy. That… I live for.
<February 8th, 2020>