Sometimes I find it challenging to distinguish temporary from insignificant. Truth be told, I actually find differentiating between the two difficult all of the time. However, I only find myself fixating on this difficulty in after disaster moments. So, some of the time.
Like when someone germane to me is terminated in whatever fashion the universe chooses to administer.
Those kind of moments.
I’ve experienced enough of these occasions that I can tell when the temporary vs insignificant enigma is going to envelop me. I can tell because there are signs that I’ve learned to recognize. Like when I’m culturally compelled to endure the religion peddler’s copy and paste homily, and I find his words borderline insulting. That’s the first sign. If I depart the see ya ceremony and the weather isn’t as dark as my mood, and that lack of cloud cover annoys me, then that’s another sign. The last sign and confirmation of my pending descent into gloominess, is when I find myself offended that the world probably can’t, but certainly won’t care about the dearly departed or my state of mind. Life carries on, and people that two minutes ago had their heads bowed in silence, are now laughing in the parish parking lot and confirming tee off times for afternoon golf.
I get it that life goes on. I understand that the ride we’re on can’t grind to a standstill because one of its passengers departed, but all that realization does is tilt the scales of my thoughts toward our insignificance. Most of the time I exist in a state where temporary is a given, and insignificant is debatable, but in these particular moments I can’t find any significance to our existence.
Because that existence is temporary.
So far, I’ve been able to find my way out of this darkness. Sometimes it takes longer than other times, but I’ve always managed to emerge and I’m hoping that trend continues. I’m not certain what happens if I linger in the dark, but my best guess is that a prolonged stay is going to mean that melancholy is going to become despair.
I think the state of despair is something to avoid at all costs. Not a lot of motivational speaker qualities if you know what I’m saying. I can’t think of a TED talk where the speaker invigorated the best of human nature with a discourse that included, fuck it, what’s the point.
By the way, I should add that my dilemma is by no means unique. Everyone experiences the same sensation at some juncture, but not everyone feels the effects the same way. My suspicion is that even psychopaths have a moment or two of reflection regarding our ephemeral existence. That moment may be coldly clinical as they’re watching the light dim in the eyes of a strangled hooker, but a moment of reflection none the less. In fact, I’d hazard a guess that a psycho serial killer would have an unusual perspective regarding our impermanence, considering that hastening that impermanence is pretty much their after work hobby.
I’m not sure how I ended up on the topic of psycho killers, but now that I’m here I’m wondering if anyone else heard quesque c’est and a whole bunch of fa’s, fa, fa’s right after psycho killer?
I’ve actually refined my preoccupation with our transience so that I’m able to brood over it without someone being terminated. I can be fishing under the shadow of a Northern Ontario white pine, and instead of appreciating the shade, I find myself becoming irritated that a fucking tree is going to live five times longer than me. I acknowledge that the tree is majestic, but five times?
And then there’s architecture. I had that same blend of white pine irritation and awe the first time I walked through the jungle and saw Chichen Itza. That particular pile of shaped rocks are a thousand God damned years old, and our entire lives are akin to a blink from the Mayan pyramid.
It’s fucking annoying.
And then there’s Europe. I was in a really old small town church in Holland. They were still using the same pews that had been installed somewhere around 1700, and those pews had ass prints worn into the wood from generations of the pious.
Thirteen generations to be a little more precise. To make ass cheek impressions.
When I think about the church in Holland, I try to convince myself that sometimes the significance of our existence needs thirteen generations to make itself known. Granted, ass impressions aren’t the best example of the cumulative effect of human perseverance, but I think the point is still valid. The problem is that you have to have faith that the people that follow you are going to finish what you’ve begun.
Half the population of the United States would likely hate the idea of a generational group effort to leave an impression. Whether on a church pew or on the future of democracy, the idea of a cumulative as opposed to an individual effort sounds a lot like socialism.
It’s easier to believe you’re going to be immortal because of sky gods.
In a way, I’m envious of those people who can deal with our mortality with faith in a sky being. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard people say that they couldn’t have accepted the demise of a loved one without their faith in God or Jesus or Allah.
That faith is evasive for me because I don’t see it in terms of believing so much as in denying. Depends on how you look at things I guess, but faith to me means that you look at death and deny that it exists. Instead you believe that sentience is transferrable. Where that sentience navigates to depends on which book you get your directions from, and the Bible and Quran are like a celestial GPS. I don’t think this method will ever work for me though.
Because I gotta have faith, faith, faith.
And I just don’t.
So without faith how do I deal with this temporary equals insignificant predicament?
I brood.
Then I conclude that hordes of people smarter than me have wrestled with this puzzle for millennia and no one has come up with an answer. Only speculation and conjecture and religion. All of it is opinion without evidence, and I know if I tell myself that I believe any of it that another part of me is going to be fully aware that I’m bullshitting.
That’s not faith. That’s a convenient way to not think about a personal expiry date.
So, I try to not think about life span limits constantly, but I can’t commit to not venturing down the what’s it all about rabbit hole from time to time. It’s not the worst of intellectual exercises if you have no illusions about a resolution.
Eventually I get to the point where I internally debate my options. I can self terminate or I can carry on. Once you decide that the only option is to soldier on, then you need to perform the most noble of human acts. You need to make the best of a shitty situation.
Laugh.
Enjoy your companions and your own company. Read a book and listen to some good music. Take care of the people around you and try to not be a dick as you search for something and someone satisfying.
Fuck the inevitable. There’s nothing I can do about it anyway.