With Strange Aeons, Even Death May Get A Life.

Whenever major events come up in my life, I tend to get distant, particularly from people I love and care for... there are certain days of the year which have special meaning for me, when I am difficult to find, or simply stay in all day, preferably with a book or perhaps just my memories. I have grown accustomed to being alone for long periods of time, either simply in a spiritual sense or in a physical way, too. Nevertheless, this can create problems for me when I become... shall we say, overstimulated:  I love being in large groups, and interacting with people, but coming down off it leaves me feeling agoraphobic and estranged, like Emily Dickinson on speed.

I have little to complain of:  my family is wonderful, I live in relative comfort, and those who count me as their friend truly are the best friends I could hope for. My life isn't where I would like it to be... but let's face it, who's is?

The simple fact is, there are horrendous moments of clarity in my interactions with people, where it suddenly dawns on me that, for all our conversations about quantum theory, the potential presence of god, the necessity of change, everything, that in, perhaps, sixty or seventy years, we will be dead, and none of it will matter.

I am not a hedonist or an atheist, but I see nothing wrong in living a life that advocates experiencing as much as possible WHILE it is possible and questioning blind dogma about ANY religious belief. I see nothing wrong in making decisions, good or bad, as long as they are made. And I see no point in clinging to mistakes, regrets, and lost loves in a vain attempt to change the past rather than learning from them to effect the future.

But...

Sometimes, I wonder, if I were given the opportunity to exist forever (as, most likely, pure energy, as I have postulated before in my play, Connections), whether or not I would take it. I think my situation and nature is uniquely suited for this... but would I truly want to see what we turn into? What becomes of us?

Strange aeons, indeed.