Saturday, September 6

drowning, not waving/waving, not drowning

I was going to write about a really cool music video we watched last night, but Andrew has left to do laundry and I haven't got a clue where to find it to show you. So, for now enjoy this:

Music video made of paper. Svelte: 'Grind Your Bones' from Svelte on Vimeo.

I feel dull, but I am starting to realise that it isn't true dullness. It is rather the dullness brought by the shock of overwhelm. As though my brain is trying to protect itself by slowing down, as a body submerged in frigid water might. Rather than fight for shore and tire half-way, my best chance is to kick determinedly, but gently, towards dry land, using the current to advantage as best I can.

It isn't something I would need to think about at length, as my limbs became heavy and numb, it would become natural to think in terms of "breathe, kick, stay alert, breathe, kick, stay alert" - just as it has become natural to me now to eat, sleep and breathe. A way to pass through a time of fear and despair, a way to make it back to shore, where the cold currents will quickly blur in memory.

The shock of landing, the comfort of knowing that regardless of what just happened you made it. A time after which life is irrevocably changed, yet strangely just the same. A period of adjustment, fingers stretched out, grasping the familiar, exploring the new.

My period of adjustment is frustratingly ongoing. Lately is has really felt like fate has been mocking my desire for normality. All this anxiety is both invigorating and exhausting. It reminds me that I am alive, that life is amazing and still so unknown, it illuminates my creativity in such a powerful way. It is exhausting for the same reasons - life is amazing and there is so much life on the planet, each of us has so little control over our collective fate, each of us has a unique mind and that is both brilliant and frightening... any number of things could bring about the end of civilization, of life, of the planet, of the universe. Any number of things could happen at any time.

I don't really "believe" in God. That isn't to say there isn't a God, or a few - I just don't believe we can ever understand or speak for God. I certainly don't think there's a bearded guy in the sky passing down judgment and absolution. What I believe in is the first law of thermodynamics - I believe that in all things there is balance. So the end of civilization, of life, of the planet or of the universe would simply be the beginning of something else. Everything we do is a tiny step along some grand process of conversion and change. In depressed times I interpret that as saying that individual and even our collective lives have no meaning. But normally I take it to mean that this opportunity we have, to be alive, to create, to grow spiritually and intellectually, is something that shouldn't be squandered. We are one part of the culmination of a grand event. Our lives are unique in the vast universe. Hitler, Hiroshima, Egypt, Beck, plastic, fashion, Palin, CERN, children, poverty, air-conditioning, cheesecake... all unique, all amazing.

Not one will change the ultimate fate of the universe, just as my ultimate fate would not change if I were to die tomorrow or in 63 years. If I do die tomorrow, that's alright - not that I want to, but if it happened it would happen; if I die at 92, that's alright, too. Either way, it won't matter much that I was correct more times than I was incorrect.

Life is pretty sweet, especially when you have cheesecake. Since the universe might end in a few days, I think I am going to make sure we have some cheesecake for dessert this week.

No comments: