I've been away from my blogging regimen as of late. I was busy making plans for the apocalypse. But evidently, the world goes on, for the moment anyway. So how about another blog post before we change the calendar?
Paradox exists, except when it doesn't. There are no absolutes, except that there are no absolutes.
My feet are currently too cold for me to be able to write. This is an ill-fated endeavor unless I can get some warmth going here. So-- golly, you sure are nice. I do love you so.
What are you living for? And is it really okay to die? Not that one should take one's life, or "give up"... but is it not okay to succumb to death? Or to surrender to God, however you define him/her?
The rain continues to fall here, as we are getting duly soaked. Our house is cool, the furnace not operating because of a venting problem that just means we should replace it entirely because it is so old and inefficient. But that takes time and money and trust and contractors and a lot of things that need to be coordinated. So far, it's just been easier to use more blankets and get through the day.
So I continue to write with cold toes. Something pushes me to write these words. It isn't out of a thirst for fame or fortune. It's out of an impulse to communicate. At my comfort level. On my terms.
I'm an okay conversationalist, I think. I can tell a story when I've got a good one to tell. But in groups lately, specifically with my wife's family, I am a background figure. I'm a listener and not much of a participator. I'm not sure why this is. I think it has to do with my medication, and my illness, and the strong personalities to deal with, and my tendency to stop dead in my tracks to search for the perfect word that I'm looking for. Much easier to do when you're writing, but not so good when you're talking. I can find a way to write around these pitfalls, but I haven't developed the skill so much in my speech. Defer is the word I was looking for-- I defer to allow others to speak instead of assert my own speech, unless I'm going for a joke, because I'm much more confident with my sense of humor than with my knowledge of any given subject.
We had a lot of laughs over Christmas, especially at my parents house, when I played the digital rendition of an old cassette tape that my sister and I had made back in the late 1970's. We listened to our juvenile voices as they improvised their way through a makeshift broadcast of a radio station. I was about ten at the time, and my sister maybe seven or so, and we mimicked the jingles and production practices of our local KLOK AM radio station, fueled by our imagination.
I'm teaching myself how to use Audacity shareware to manipulate audio digitally, and the KLOK radio show that we did was one of the first things I wanted to try and work with, so that we could pass it on to our descendents. I think it's a precious thing, this relic from our childhood, that brings back memories of a fun time and a kind and loving relationship between siblings. And it is funny to follow the imaginative musings of these children, who are now so distant from us; to be remembered is an effort because we have ceased to be familiar with these infants.
Anyway, there were other discussions, too. One of them explored different living arrangements for my brother-in-law's parents and his grandfather, who is now one-hundred years old, and although in pretty good health, needs a lot of assistance with everyday living. This is where the questions about life and death came from. I wonder, if I should somehow make it to my eighties, how much independence I will still have, and who will be around to assist me. I hope to grow old with my wonderful Suzy. But I don't have the reins of this life securely in my vibrant fist. Sometimes I think I know what I'm doing, but most of the time I feel I'm in control only because I'm ignorant to the greater reality.
I don't know why I do this. I don't know why I try to place little symbols next to each other in ways that express concepts and emotions and thoughts. But it feels right. And right sustains me, whatever that means. So I keep trying.
What do you live for? I live for lunch dates with my wife, and stupid knock-knock jokes with my nephews. I live for bringing forth hearty produce and beautiful flowers, for planting seeds and helping them realize their potential, and then relishing in the bounty of their harvest.
The world ends and begins again everyday. The sun rises; the sun sets. A child is born and a grandfather is laid to rest.
What does it all mean? Is there a reason? Sure, I think so. And somewhere within us, we know the answers to these questions. Somehow, outside of words and thoughts, there is understanding. The thing that keeps you breathing, and your heart beating. The whatever it is that helps you think your way through a problem you don't know the answer to. The carrot that leads you to your solution. There are many labels and concepts for it, but none describe it completely.
It's kinda like this: it's the one thing that is everything and all things, while still only being the one thing.
Happy New Year! See you next year.