aging

The idea of hanging out with a child on the same night of getting news that your aunt's body is shutting down has this odd singe of life burned on its edges. Here in one place a boy with his whole life in front of him, playing human jungle gym on the ones watching him, asking questions, soaking in information faster than it can be given. And in another place, a woman's body has been overtaken by cells that it can no longer fight, and it concedes and slowly shuts down, one organ at a time. A life lived and a life not yet lived. Both of their presents defining their futures, and both will ultimately lead to the same destination just on quicker highways.

I wonder what it is about dying. I mean I know that most of it is the fear of the unknown pass this, pass what he see as reality. The other is the loss of a human being. I've seen dead people before, I've seen people die, slip into comas, hit by cars. I have seen horrific things that are burned into my brain. I think someone said one time that the things you want to remember you forget and things you want to forget never leave. How true. The only true form of time travel seems to be Alzheimer's, which is a tragedy in and of itself, and one I fear that I will have one day. I hope that whoever my wife is that she will have the patience to watch an old man go mad. Maybe I already there. You can't drive somewhere where you already live. My aunt at this very moment is in a coma, breathing controlled, everything mechanized to help her. I wonder what that feeling is like. Maybe that's another fear we have, what it feels like to die. G-d, I don't know, don't know if I want to know.

We only have the present. The past is behind us, never to be seen again, and the future awaits on the horizon. How impatient I am these days, and someone who is dear to me tells me this, which it isn't hard for me to take criticism; yet it is hard to hear that you are something that you didn't think you were. But it's a good thing to listen to people. To HEAR what they say about you. Kind of like at a funeral, what people say about you, what you hope someone might say, did you hurt someone, did you leave someone, did you do this, did you do that? The truth of the matter is is that we live in a hard and dark place and we will be hurt and hurt. We will never be quite what we want to be, but that's okay, as long as we continue to strive towards it. Living in the present, grasping our moments, things we will recall in our last days. I have certain memories that I hope I don't lose, places in my life where I'd like to travel back to, and be in that moment again, not change a word or anything, just be there again. To remember that feeling.

Maybe that is what happens. You get to time travel before you die, back to those moments that stick out. And you get to live in them again. So we are not really alone, just pilgrims once again. Have to remind myself that. I am not from here. I am not from here. I am not from here. If we say it enough, maybe we can go back to Kansas, maybe we can go back in time, maybe we can go home.

I hope to be old one day and have lots of grandkids and to sit on summer mornings on the front porch with you, and we will speak of old times, and make new ones every moment. And when we get to our death beds, whoever goes first, please prepare the next place for the other. Because it won't be the same without you if we are apart, no matter how long that may be.

Raise your glasses, and let's make a toast. To us. To you. To the children just now living, and to the ones about to leave. May we all find each other one day somewhere where we all can play, a place that we can call home.

so little we own

After moving, and successfully stealing some internet until my cable guy installs me, i am looking around, hearing my fingers echo down the hall of the place i live now. Vacant mostly, if you broke in here nothing really would seem valuable. Scattered books, small furniture, some art, meager amounts of food.

But i look at it what i "own" (if that term even really means anything) and i see history, stories, literature, journals, staples of my life. Things that remind me where I have been, where I am, and maybe where I am going. An old brick. Every journal with my constant metamorphosis, an old candle, my diploma, my dvds. Things that make me smile, other things that make me not want to. But all in all, my small history. My life, told in objects gathered.

And I suppose in the end, that's really all that stuff is. Our story, our likes and dislikes, notes to someone others may not know, and how we did things. Personally I am not one who likes to have a lot of stuff. I like simple, I like small. Either way doesn't matter. All the possessions in the world can't be taken with you, even though the ancient Egyptians tried. And what happened when those tombs of Pharoahs were opened? Dusty gold. Old parchments, and skeletons. That's life. That's the end.

I have always viewed life as a string. One that is finite and tied on both ends. And at some point that I do not know that string will be snipped and tumble down. I will be remembered in stories and in my children, my imperfections passed on to them, and maybe some good things, too (most will probably come from my wife). Either way, you can't bury me with all my earthly possessions, it'll cost too much money, and be too big of a hole to dig anyway.

I don't know what the point of this note is. Maybe it's to say it doesn't matter how much you own or have, you can't take it with you. But you already know that. Maybe it's to say that our stories will be passed on by what we have/had. Or maybe it's just too cold outside to do anything. I can't wait for you to be here.

The Problem with Pain

"God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."

-C.S. Lewis

The book is called "The Problem of Pain" (italics added) but I decided to venture out on my own little jaunt here and change the preposition. Maybe because I forgot the correct title. Or maybe because I am incredibly enlightened... I am going to go with the first one. Either way, I do love this book and if you have a chance and have ever felt pain, maybe you will too. And it speaks to something that we all know as a very physical thing: pain.

We have all felt, in all facets of the word. It is an easy thing to describe, help others feel and hear and know, and I think more often than not easy to write about because it is much more concrete and common to nail down than harder emotions or things, such as love. It is just... very specific. I say pin prick at the hospital, you should cringe. I say tattoo on the top of the foot, you bite your lip (in a bad way). I say heartbreak and you know what I mean. I say lost loved one, and you associate that with one that you lost. Pain is concrete. Pain is simple. Pain hurts.

But is hurt bad? Is hurting bad? Hm. Sometimes. Maybe. I don't know. That's probably a bigger question than my young mind can answer. But from what I know it's sometimes one of the best things, and sometimes one of the worst things. The problem OF pain and the problem WITH pain are closely related. I think I want to group it together and say, "pain is bad, it's never good to see someone hurt." But on the other hand, pain is necessary. Pain from a wound sometimes means it's healing. Pain means that we feel. I always think about a friend of mine from high school, paralyzed from the neck down (at first). What hurt him was the lack of pain, the lack of feeling. So then pain, too, starts to become somewhat scatterbrained and happenstance. Ugh, it makes my head hurt sometimes- more pain!- just thinking about it.

But pain is not always bad. I like pain in a way. I am reminded of another Lewis quote: "Safe? Course he isn't safe. But he is good."

I am thankful for my scars in my life, for the skinned knees and the burn marks and old bruises that won't heal. I am thankful for the scars in my heart, though I might not be too happy about how they got there. No one ever got anywhere good without a scar or two. And I don't know about you, but I'd rather a thousand scars and some good stories and a passionate love and real life, than to play it "safe".