I am indebted to Barbara Foerder who inspired this conversation.
At the same
time
as it dawned on me that I have
my own, independent life
(ie the
time
of the realization I'm alluding to here, was when I was very,
very young), what became discernible (that is to
say,
what became discernible later) is I
lived
it within a certain
context.
That
context
was "This goes on
forever;
it never ends.". By "discernible later" I
mean
even though I
lived
within that
context
at that
time,
I didn't discern it as a
context
at that
time:
I was too young to. Only later upon
reflection,
did I discern it as the
context
within which I
lived.
During my teen and young adult years, that
context
(still not yet discernible as a
context)
expanded to include false bravados, like "I'm invincible", and "I'm
bulletproof", and even "I'm invisible". I
lived
the next few years (if not
decades)
like that. Eventually (imperceptibly,
inexorably)
another
context
began making its
presenceknown.
When it did, my erstwhile
context
for
living,
"This goes on
forever,
I'm invincible, I'm bulletproof, and I'm invisible", slowly and
steadily phased out as I confronted and came to grips with
the truth
about the finiteness of
my life.
What it was replaced with, was
"How
many years do I have left?". What I want to be
clear
about is there's not a
shred
of morbidity in this. To the contrary if you want it, it's the onset of
a
vast
opportunity: the opportunity to have each
moment
count.
But wait: there's another
possible
side to having no control over
how
it will all
play
out: it's having total control over
how
it will all
play
out.
How
so,
Laurence?
By allowing it to
play
out
the way
it
plays
out, I'll have it doing whatever it does. And by having it doing
whatever it does, I'm in total control. Here's my clarification of
this: consider these two assertions: "I'll have the sun not rise
tomorrow" - it rises: I have no control; "I'll have the sun rise
tomorrow" - it rises: I have total control.
As I look into
the future,
I
wonder
what components of
who I am
as a
human being,
will diminish, and in particular, which will be
the last
to go. They do diminish, you
know.
I
know.
Neither my eyesight nor my
hearing
are as acute as they once were. Minor aches and pains take longer to
heal than they once did.
Interestingly
enough (and surprisingly enough), long-term memory seems much more
enduring than short-term memory (shouldn't it be the other way around,
given there's more memories over the long-term than the short-term?).
So of all the components which will go (and all of them surely will),
I'm curious about which will be
the last
to go, when I reach
Shakespeare's
"necessary end". Conjecture: of all the components of
who I am
as a
human being,
I
say
it's my
say-so
itself, which will be
the last
to go,
out-lasted
perhaps only by my
stand
that my
say-so
itself, will be
the last
to go.
Now:
is that
the truth?
Who
knows.
I certainly don't. But one thing's for sure: I'll find out sooner or
later. And here's the real value in it: whether it's
the truth
or not, what a great
way
to
live
as it all
plays
out.
Living
this
way
(in other
words,
living
from the
stand
that my
say-so
is the enduring
platform
of
my life),
sets up the
possibility
of having every precious
moment
count, and lived to the max.