Thoughts On A
It is a brooding, gray, rainy day. The house is quieter now than I can
ever remember it. I am alone. All the guests have gone, Thanksgiving is
a another memory now; it is a shadow put away to remember on some other
day. But it's too soon to look back on it today.
I feel older today. I'm tired. I'm pensive and anxious and I don't know
why. I'm feeling down today. It's unusual for me to feel this way, still
when it happens, I enjoy it. I enjoy feeling this way. Isn't that odd?
I'm usually feeling up, happy and healthy. I normally feel so healthy I
don't give my health a thought. I suppose most healthy people are like
that. I am thankful that I am usually healthy, and painfully aware that
many are not. So, I am happy and thankful that my ill-feeling today is
Today I feel half-sick and sad. I'm down. And, as strange as it sounds,
it feels good to me to feel something else besides the way I normally
feel. I wouldn't want to feel sick; but this in-between feeling of
half-sick is actually comforting. It reminds me, that I am mortal and
time is not something that should be wasted. I waste a lot of time. I
waste time waiting for things to happen, things to come, things to go,
mail to come, and that sort of thing. Sometimes, I waste time like I had
an endless supply of it. Today reminds me that I don't and then again,
maybe I have more time to waste than I think. That's what I love about
my mood today, it is fertile soil for thought. All I need is a little
coffee to water the soil.
It occurred to me, in this morose mood of mine, that all diseases must
begin as simple symptoms; maybe an ache here or there, maybe a twinge of
pain; maybe just a tired, lethargic feeling - that one I can't precisely
describe. I think I would ignore most symptoms for awhile, especially if
I had had the same symptoms before. I guess the people that run to the
doctor at every ill feeling, are more in tune with their bodies than I -
or maybe they're just more afraid of dying than I. Don't get me wrong, I
don't want to die. Although when I think about it, I imagine death is
more for the living than the dead. The dead don't really care if they
are not alive, do you think? Besides if anyone ever reads this when I'm
dead they'll be wondering, won't they?
I've often thought that before I was born, human history progressed just
fine without me. I read about Shakespeare's life. He lived long before I
was born. I don't actually know that there was a Shakespeare. I have to
take people's word for it. I don't know that he really did all those
things. I wasn't around to see him do them. Someone wrote Hamlet. They
said it was Shakespeare, but I wasn't there to actually see him laboring
I've read about the great conquests of Alexander The Great. And through
the written history I can experience it. In my own way, which would
certainly be different than yours. But I sure wasn't on this earth when
Alexander The Great was conquering and vanquishing his enemies.
I'm pretty sure that when I die the world will continue spinning 'round
and 'round and history will be made without me. Then I wonder if I've
always been here? Maybe a caveman; then maybe a slave; then perhaps I
helped construct the great pyramids. Maybe a little later I was a Roman
Centurion; then sailed on the Mayflower to begin a life adventure in a
new world' then a pioneer on a wagon train to the wild West. Maybe then
I was a dough boy in WWI. If I was any of these before, I don't remember
it. And that intrigues me. It's a good thing that I don't remember being
here before. It would be a complicated mess if all our different lives
overlapped. After a few hundred centuries we'd be a mess of conflicting
ideologies. We'd be bombarded by so many memories that our minds would
be overcome and we wouldn't be able to function. I think it's good, that
if we go around and around in cycles of lifetimes that we always start
the next life with a clean slate. We can learn "new" things for the
five-hundredth time, all over again and maybe learn it better this time
around. If we don't learn it well this time; we'll try again next time.
Eventually, we get it right - I think.
So, I guess I believe whatever is inside of us that makes "me" me, and
"you" you; that energy, that awareness we feel, never dies. It just
comes and goes in a never-ending cycle of life. Each time we're born, we
are born as a different person, and then only thing we have left from
previous lifetimes it that sense of self. Who can say I'm not right?
Maybe God is the animator and is that "me" or "you" inside us that lives
and dies and lives and dies forever. Maybe there is just one glorious
life and we all share a piece of it - you, me, the trees, the flowers,
the animals. All life is the same when you get to the essence of it.
Isn't it? That spark of life that makes a tiger alive isn't in a rock or
other non-living thing. Where does the energy of life go when we die? It
can't be destroyed or created. It just is. It is and will be forever.
God has no beginning and no ending. Maybe God is everything and
everything is God?
I'm not espousing religiously - or questioning my beliefs. I'm not going
off on a transcendental quest. It's just me musing on a cold, dark,
November day. I love drifting along with my thoughts as the rain pounds
on the windows. Gray, dreary skies and the gloomy, slanted light of
November make for great thinking. Sometimes it's good to feel down and pensive.
I wallow in it and enjoy it. I can even enjoy the
feeling of being almost-but-not-quite-sick, a little. Feeling this way
motivates me to contemplate my own mortality. That is not such a bad
thing, after all.
I don't take enough time to think about these kinds of things when I'm
happy and feeling good - and going about my daily life, buzzing busily
around as I normally do. I waste too much time most of the time I think. But maybe I have
more time than I think I do? Maybe I have an eternity of it?
I don't know
what to think. I just know that today was a good day for it.
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