The start of something new- sort of.
I think a lot, we all do, but I can’t help to think that I think a lot — sweet irony!
With regards to my posts, I have generally been saving my words for deeper and longer pieces to blog about, though I frequently vlog my thoughts in experience regularly.
But I can’t lie, if I’m not sharing my words for others to digest for dialogue, the experience feels all too vain.
That beng said, I want to make more of a habit to start sharing some of these ideas, concepts, and stories with you by bridging it through writing.
And though some of them might be fairly short, I digress, I am will continue to share them.
I will also be sharing the vlog pertaining to the topic when available as well.
Moving On
I feel that most of my profound thinking comes to me when I am physically interacting directly with the world, and what I really mean to say is that I am outside doing something physical.
These impacting thoughts often surprise me when they seemingly transition out from a subconcious impression. When they become concious, it is my purposeful intention to grab them in their moment of conception, otherwise they will simply float beyond me.
As a result, I have made it a habit to be as proactive as possible in order to grab what I will in the moment, even if it means interrupting my work– within reason of course.
Actually, this is a method of journaling I talk about in my new ebook called “Make It Stick, Write It Down. A Journaled Philosophy.”
The point behind it is to capture the powerful thoughts that wash over you in order to identify a deeper meaning in your life, and it is something that has helped me along with my own journey.
weathered observations
Well here we finally find ourselves into the primary topic for conversation.
To set the scene, I was driving along for work one day when I got caught by a red traffic light. I came to a stop where I waited for the light to turn green before proceeding –because I’m not a maniac.
As I waited, an older gentlement began his own pedestrian crossing through the intersection out in front of my vehicle.
Evening was descending onto us through this mid-winter afternoon, and the weather was mixed between overcasting flurries and wet sleet. As brisk and equally damp as it was outside, the man continued his crossing with a stride that mimicked the look of expression on his face, which doubly reflected the energy of the weather. And from the warmth of my bus, this momentary glimpse in passing equally provided me with his overall impression as weathered.
I cast mine onto thee
Maybe it was whatever thoughts I had just projected into him, but it brought me to contemplate what his perception of life and experience must be within the memory of his golden years.
And as I placed myself into the visual representation of himself, I felt disheartened to see him–myself– outside of his prime.
And though a person’s prime is largely subjective, I found myself mulling over the loss of both capability, and opportunity within my own aging.
Stiff Cat, jungle cat.
In writing this post, I am 31 years young.
And yes, I do agree along with many others– probably — that I am a young lad with loads of good years left to live–though it’s contrary to how I feel sometimes.
But even I– at this age — have lost capabilities and resilence from a purely physical standpoint as a result of aging. I can say this because there are things that feel completly different for me now than when I was younger — even from the last year or two.
My body hurts a little bit more, I feel a little bit slower, and stiffer, and recovering takes a little bit longer.
Maybe it’s the years of hard physical training and competitive sport, or the years of yo-yo dieting– maybe it’s age, or maybe it’s a combination all of those things.
It doesn’t really matter, and it might not be extreme, but it is something that is continually adding up with time, as something that I have noticed intricately change.
Regardless, between myself and the old gentleman who was at least twice my elder, I couldn’t help but see myself as being in my prime in the contrasting observation between us.
Physically speaking— and in our moment in passing– I am more youthful and more capable in resilience than he is.
Well, most likely…
I mean, I guess you never know. I don’t know him on a personal level, but he could very well be a jungle cat in disguise capable of unleashing a series of backflips across the intersection in a moments notice.
Possible?— Yes.
Plausible?— No.
#mythbusters
But, that’s besides the point because this is purely, and judgmentally perceived through a first glance impression.
Growing Older
As I internalized the experience in front of me, my thoughts pulled me deeper into what it must be like to grow old– and I couldn’t help but feel a sinking feeling of sadness.
I felt melancholic because I was saddened with the idea of losing capability, or ability in general. And for myself, it is a type of “loss” that hurts to contemplate.
I am older than yesterday from today’s standpoint yes, but seeing myself older tomorrow somehow hurts more because I can identify with and feel what I’d be losing today.
And what is lost tomorrow hurts to think about, because it means losing capability, it means losing ability, and ultimately, it means losing a form of expression.
To side note, any injury that I sustain, or endure heavily influences how I feel physically. In turn, it plays on my emotional and mental state as a result. In this regard, a loss of capability or ability hinders the possibility to express my mental and emotional states effectively because it creates an energetic block that keeps my physical energy erratically caged inside of my own tissues.
Realistically, this energy will probably find some compensated form or outlet to express itself, but the idea to lose any form of physical expression within the scope of my current capabilities saddens me to ponder.
Mate, How do you feel?
My mind progressed into contemplating his own thoughts in experience.
I wondered:
“Does he feel any way close in resemblance to what I am throwing onto him right now?”
“How does he feel about his life in general?”
“Where does his personal meaning, and life purpose lie?”
“Is he satisfied with his life experience?”
“If he was to literally drop dead, would he feel content with how his life has unfolded– Or would he hold regrets, or be caught mulling over missed opportunites, and broken dreams?”
Furthermore, I wondered if he missed the loss of his youth in the way I was remembering my future self would– I’d imagine so.
I’d imagine so because we all remember what was lost to some degree, and if we can’t remember exactly “what” was lost, we are simply left remembering with the feeling that something has been, went, or is missing.
Ah, how interesting we are in this world and in our experience–It’s amazing to think.
What is even more miraculous to think is how loaded those experienced seconds were.
At most, it took him at approximately 20 seconds to get from one side of the street to the other.
Again, at most, because I had formed these thoughts instantly.
Well, the feeling was automatically internalized autonomously, while the words of expression to understand the feelings and emotions took just marginally longer to come to fruition.
Regardless, it was within such a short time frame that took my mind so far down the rabbit hole of my own thinking.
Just imagine however– given the duration of time elapsed and the complexity in the timeline of thought that was experienced— how so must the reflection of a life feel when we are met with our own extremes.
Of Life, Of Death, Of Age, Of Youth.
The closing concepts that came to me with the ending of his crossing was the concept of extremes– but more notably, death.
I speak a lot of death– I mention death’s name a lot in my writing, in my poetry, and moreso, I noticably observe death within my own perceived symbolism. Afterall, death is the source of my own gratitude in life.
Regardless, a friend mentioned to me how death is essentially humanity’s greatest fear collectively speaking.
It was fascinating to fathom that idea that death is so largely feared in life, despite being such a beautiful thing.
Death is beautiful- wait, let me explain.
Death is beautiful because it provides us a natural appreciation and gratitude for the extreme opposite of what death is– and that is life itself.
We are alive- All of us.
And we can experience all of these beautiful things passionately.
We can internalize them so sweetly, because we know deep down that our experiences will always come to an end somewhere down the line of our experience.
We can experience a sweet savouring.
Life is more meaningful because we die, and it becomes even sweeter the closer that we come to our own conclusion.
As obvious as I’d think it is to say this, but can you imagine what value life would have if we never had to face death?
As we constantly spun ourselves around the hamster wheel of life for eternity, one could wonder what meaning would exist in our lives.
People ask such questions now, but how much more intense would those questions get if life were a permanent affair?
We can never really know either way- but at least we can imagine.
It brings me sadness to fathom the lack of a conclusion in life. Maybe I am just a sad individual, but it’s because everything in this world has its conclusion.
I believe that the characteristics of the smallest details coexist with the largest details. It is all the same, and it is evident with the idea that we live and die every day— Literally, physically, symbolicaly, and on so many different spectrums.
Literally, and collectively– humanity is birthing, and dying daily.
Literally, and individualy– We are slowly living and dying everyday on a cellular level, as we are aging, dying, and regenerating.
Symbolically speaking– the symbolism is that we experience death everyday in some manner within our rhythmic cycles that are both necessary, and voluntary.
We wake, we sleep.
We start our work, we end our work.
We exert, we rest.
We embrace those we love, we let them go.
Life is teeming with both beginnings and endings, and the symbolism between life and death is evident everyday.
As a result of these underlying cyclical themes, our life and experiences are that much better, that much richer, and that much sweeter.
This ongoing cycle of life and death enrichens our experiences because we can see, live, feel, and yearn for the journey between the two extremes– in all facets of our existence.
Similarily, these extremes are the same reasons as to why I can perceive the old man with both sadness, and underlying feelings of joy and gratitude– because I can emotionally contrast between the two extremes to know, and to understand what feels good, in light of what hurts.
Life is beautiful because we die.
Honestly, I find myself saying this a lot, but only becasuse I feel so much gratitude for it.
I feel so damn good because I can appreciate the simplicity of life so greatly.
And though, everyday is not great– because our life is a journey between extremes— I can appreceiate the life that I have to experience as a result.
I can appreciate youth, living, and life because I can appreciate aging, dying, and death.
Living for tomorrow,
Littermature.
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