Saturday, April 07, 2007
Coming to terms
As I get closer and closer to my 30th birthday, I find myself coming to terms with some things. First and foremost being my own mortality. Some series of neurons in my mind has begun firing in a sequence that seems to continuously remind me that my time on this Earth is limited. Maybe this is the male version of a biological clock, maybe I am having a mid-life crisis, I honestly can't be certain. The worry is that I will not have had an impact, or at least, my presence in this world has been trivial. While that shouldn't bother, as I realize that the very notion of significance in a temporary existence is ridiculous, the feeling is inescapable.
It is a curious thing. Have I done enough good? Will I have enough time to make something more of this life than basic existence? Does any of it make any difference, at the end? I'm not sure and I must admit that a part of me is very worried that the answers are no, no, and no. The search for meaning in a place which is so superficial and shortsighted is an uphill climb into a steady head wind and I'm becoming acutely aware that a part of me is no longer sure that I will make the summit.
Ultimately, the search for meaning in this place and time may be my Everest, and I may be George Mallory. What if my destiny is to seek and never find? What if I am to wander the mountain until the merciless cold and thinning air overtake me? Will some stronger soul find my shriveled remains, my failures forever marked by the husk of who I used to be? I feel like my spirit has so much more to give, but there seem to be so few legitimate causes left to pursue.
There is good in us, but what good is "good" when it is clouded or masked by so much soil? So many of us are soiled by layers of lies, delusions, and falsifications - what power does Truth hold? In these moments of uncertainty, reality seems to disenchanting. I can see why so many run from it.
All of this because of a birthday...a number in a sequence of numbers that ultimately serve as a basic measurement of our physical reality. I don't feel like 30 is right around the corner. In many ways, I still feel 20, or even 10. So much of this world is still a mystery - there are so many wonders yet to understand. But my vision is tainted by time and experiences. Physically I may be in the same shape I was at 20, but my thoughts sometimes feel 100 years old. Throughout my entire life, I have been nagged by a sense that there is no place for me here. As I have grown older, my longing for a place of beauty, harmony, and love has grown stronger, but my belief that such a place is impossible has grown with it. The two are constantly in conflict and the yin-yang is a torture at times.
So I will learn to ride a motorcycle and I will buy one that looks as if it was designed 50 or 60 years ago. I will ride off into early mornings and evening sunsets and will do my best to forget this place and time. With any luck, my awareness of the humans I share this space with will fall away from conscious awareness and my spirit will be alone with the Earth and the sky and all the things that humanity's white noise works so tenaciously to silence or hide.
To that end, I ordered my helmet on Thursday. It's a carbon/kevlar, top-shelf unit that covers the entirety of my fragile cranium. Hopefully there will not ever come a time when I should need such protection, but better to be safe than forever sorry. MSF classes start on Thursday and run through Sunday afternoon, so the bike hunt should begin sometime next week. Will I be the youngest person riding a Harley-Davidson Deluxe? Possibly, but then what sense would any other scenario possibly make?
p.s. Updated my DeviantArt profile with some stuff from this term at Eckerd. Anyone who cares can check it out here: DeviantArt
Labels: life
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30th birthdays are certainly one of those milestones that make you evaluate your life and accomplishments. I don't think you have anything to be disappointed about. Your still lifes look fantastic!! Great job!
I can't even reason out why this birthday is having such an impact on me. The root of it would seem to be more in the perceptions of others, than in how I actually feel, but the weight of the situation is certainly more cumbersome than I would have expected. I haven't accomplished much in this life, at least by most peoples' standards, but that doesn't bother me as much as coming up short of my own standards.
And there's an element of regret in there somewhere, but not for what I have or haven't done. The real regret is having to accept that some(most?) of my dreams and aspirations will not become realities. At 20, I couldn't have cared less. At 30, it's a strangely saddening thing. Maybe it's age and wisdom, maybe it's just growing old...I'm honestly not sure at this point.