Getting Ready To Die

No, as far as I know, it’s not imminent, but you never know. An awful lot of people are checking out in the seventh decade that I just began in February, with undoubtedly more to come. Statistics, after all. Seven of my ten maternal relatives made it into their nineties - the last remaining aunt turns ninety-eight in December - and two made it to a hundred. On the other hand, my father and grandfather only got sixty-six years, so I've bested them by four.

Various doctor's examinations, including emergency room reviews for what turned out to be false alarms, have indicated that other than the pacemaker that Lyme disease gifted me twenty-three years ago, I'm in pretty good shape. Surprise! because I know how I've mistreated this meat that makes me "Me." Regardless, I expect my personal extinction will happen sometime over the next thirty years. And I don't believe in the Supernatural: no Other-Judgement, no reward, no punishment, no do-over any more than for any other being on this planet. I’d prefer my end to be not-unpleasant and I'm unsure whether I'd prefer a conscious, or unconscious exit, but there's rarely a choice involved. Que sera.

My first personal, emotional recognition of death's implications occurred at my maternal grandmother's funeral in 1967 when she was 84 and I was 14. Somehow I came to the understanding that she had once been younger and birthed my mother, aunts, and uncles; one girl-child grew older, and birthed me; that meant that someday my mother would herself grow older and... eventually die. But wait: I was a child, and children grow up, and I suddenly realized that eventually we all grow old and..!  I experienced decades of late night anxiety among the adventures and tragedies of Growing Up.

I don't think that religion, which comforts so many, ever "took" in me because I was learning my Catholic catechism at the same time very-early-reader me was learning about Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Norse and Hindu legends and myths, so the Judeo-Christian realms after death appeared likewise just the legends and myths of the Middle East, like Valhalla or the Elysian Fields in other regions. l learned about the Indian and Buddhist belief in reincarnation, but my observation of the Natural World indicated that while there is a Circle of Life and Death, the organized matter we call “Life,” once broken down into its basic elements, does not come back as the same conscious life or reincarnate to give it another go. Fear, hopes, and dreams do not reality make.

Around this time I learned about Taoism (a naturistic philosophy, not a religion) with its advice to accept one’s self as a part of Nature, to recognize that consciousness exists only in the Here and Now, and the recommendation that one should “go with the flow” through life’s challenges. This perspective affected me deeply and has given me a modicum of peace as I’ve grown older. “Seasons don't fear the reaper, nor do the wind, the sun, or the rain,” after all. 

So there is no inherent "meaning" to life. Then, what's the point? It’s a short trip when compared to any geologic or cosmological time-scale. However, if you ask the wrong question, any answer given may itself be meaningless. The point seems to me that, having won the lottery of sperm and egg and survival, we have received the opportunity to create meaning as a personalized monument, temporary though it may be. Our society suggests numerous strategies to do so, many involving pleasing others or leaving some sort of “mark” on the world. Many of those efforts can be pleasantly socially productive, while others can be callous and selfish. But eventually, if we are not psychopaths, we are called to Self-Judgement.

“Was it good enough?” According to whom? History does not seem to provide any social measure that is set in stone. “Compared to what?” Ultimately, all we have are our own life experiences that occur in a swirl of competing cultures that we may address with our particular inclinations and talents. Or not. The Universe requires nothing of us.

Some consider this sort of introspection and conversation morbid. I myself see it as a type of meditation, albeit a somber one. As I review my life’s successes and failures, I note that when I offended others it was rarely deliberate, but almost always a result of my own short-sighted and narrow ignorance and the absence of effective role-modeling as a youth as to how to manage my anger. Most of my disappointments are for things that I did not do, that I could have done. And I have to admit to some envy of other’s deeds while recognizing not having done some things as My Own Damn Fault. Poor self-initiative, focus, and inconsistency are solely on me.

But overall I have been well-Blessed by the circumstances of my life. I have been privileged, and comfortable, and without being too prideful, I think I have Done Well For Others, and am growing in Kindness. Even though I talk too damn much. I have largely had the opportunity to enjoy my life. Though I am not at all religious, I admire this prayer: “”To those I may have wronged, I ask forgiveness. To those I may have helped, I wish I could have done more. To those I neglected to help, I am truly sorry and ask for understanding. To those who helped me, I am deeply Grateful.”

I hope that as my Light fades I can lay back and think, “Veni, Vidi, Contentus Sum.”I Came; I Saw; I am Satisfied. Then let it go, and never know it again.