A Life Less Blog

September 12, 2010, 7:54 pm
Filed under: Life, Philosophy, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tags: ,

Every dawning of a new day is looked upon with surprise.

The sun rising and setting is just a marking of time.

Every breath that is consumed and expelled depreciates the body,

withers the husk, loosens the bonds that ground us to the earth.

The seasons changing show us how Nature carries on independently of our plans for it,

and doesn’t need any help from us to do what comes naturally.

Every step that is taken is another step closer, another jaunt, another skip, another

bend in the road, another obstacle to challenge us as the sands of time run through the hourglass of our lives.

One day we will look out of our window and the light will no longer blind us because there will be another figure to absorb our attention.

The figure will beckon and we will not be afraid, we will realize we have reached the next step in our lives…we will have ascended as high as we can on our current plane.

Every moment will melt away.

Time will have no meaning.

Food will not be needed.

Drink will seem a distant memory, as will everything else that seemed to be so important;

caused us so much stress.

We will exhale all of the anxiety, fear, loss, depression, negativity

and inhale calm, serenity, love, and grace.

We will shed all of the possessions we accumulated making us lighter and lighter,

causing us to lift off the ground, and push up against the ceiling like a hot air balloon pulling at

the weighted lines that hold it to the earth.

This is when our skin and our minds will expand to become so thin and so full of hidden knowledge that the

substances of our body will cease to be solid.

We will feel ourselves pass through the walls of our homes,

fly through the roof and rise up to the clouds.

Nothing will be holding us down, not worry, nor heavy change in our pockets,

we can just float up and up and

glide on the wind watching our energy dissipate into all directions

knowing that eventually all our parts will come back together

finding their way as if by instinct,

to the same destination.

July 13, 2010, 5:15 pm
Filed under: Life, Philosophy | Tags:

I read several books in school like “Our Town” and “Spoon River,” where key figures in a town, monologue about their lives and their deaths.  I have always wondered what goes through the mind of someone when they are dying.  What do they see?  How do they feel?  What do they worry about, or is there a complete absence of worry?  I don’t consider myself particularly morbid, I just wonder what would it be like, if somehow or another, we were still semi-conscious when our life on this earth expires.  There are several fabled counters of time throughout history.  The three women that have fascinated me the most are the Three Fates in Greek mythology.  One woman,Clotho spins the Thread of Life, another, Lachesis, allots the length of the yarn, and finally Atropos makes the final cut of the thread.  How do they know?  I think Lachesis must be the most skilled out of all three.  If I close my eyes and imagine each person on earth trailing a length of yarn that gets longer and longer as they get older and more complex in its weave…do these strings ever get tangled amongst each other?  Are we all connected by a Thread of Life?  Is our civilization wrapping itself in a knot that gets harder and harder to untie based upon the number of strings that are crisscrossing?   Will this string pretty soon snap like a rubber band and be sucked back into whatever vortex we emerged from like the tape inside a tape measure?  Does Lachesis create the experiences of a life within the length of a string?

I think if we could look into the mind of Lachesis we might see a tired, bored, bitter old woman who lives but to spin and yet probably feels as if, she herself has nothing that attaches her to life.  Maybe her spinning is a way to live vicariously through others.  Maybe she gives them the experiences she wishes for herself.  There is a natural progression to life: we are born, become educated, work, date, marry, have children, work some more to pay for our children to be educated and date, marry, work, and have children of their own.  I wonder if she ever tries to shake things up a bit?  Or maybe the wool she uses to spin the Thread of Life for all living beings is from her own hair.  Maybe she is forced to spin her hair into billions upon trillions of threads that grow, thrive for a while and then are cut once they have outlived their usefulness.  Does she mourn for these threads like children, and grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren or is she so focused on her task she doesn’t even notice how thin her hair is getting and how gnarled her hands have grown?  Will the day ever come when, bald, with knuckles bleeding and humpbacked she pushes back her chair, sighs and says “It is enough?”

What of her sisters?  Atropos has the hardest job; when to decide a string should be cut?  Does it begin fraying on its edges, does it show signs of weakness?  Can she just sit with the string in her hands and rub it between her fingers…does it make a certain sound when it is strummed?  If I was Atropos I would just close my eyes and snip periodically at the string.  Maybe she leaves everything up to chance…maybe it is easier if she doesn’t see how long the string has become.  Does she count to a certain number and then cut?  Does she sing and cut when she reaches the 4th stanza in the song?  How can it be so casual to end a life?  Maybe she doesn’t think of the strings as lives, maybe she sees the bigger picture of what these strings can be weaved into.  Maybe that is what she is counting on Lachesis to do…weave these long strings into something beautiful, something that makes each of their obligatory jobs worthwhile and that in the end will finally cast some sense on why these Three Fates exist at all.