I'm up again, it's 1am, I'm hanging out in my favorite fleece and underwear. James Taylor is soothing me with lines about country roads and escape, and Heidi just knocked on my bedroom door to bring me a freshly baked peanut butter-chocolate chip cookie.
Am I lucky or what?
I've been in a bit of a funk all day, and couldn't really tell you exactly why. There's a lot of things that have been weighing down my spirits the last few days. Yes, I lost my uncle to a horrible car accident, and watched Oma gasp for breath and fade before my eyes this past weekend. What's strange though is that after my good cry on Friday, I've felt so incredibly calm that really everything has seemed sort of surreal, a blur. I've jumped right back into everything - school, workouts, social stuff, and thesising - yet I almost feel like I've tiptoed through the last few days, waiting for the other shoe to drop, some other bad thing to happen, and I've warned Whoever or Whatever or Fate about the consequences of testing my strength again anytime soon. I'm just completely exhausted.
You cannot imagine (or maybe you can) how much more I've thought about death the last few days, how I waited for the text message from Mom telling me her flight landed safely, and Pop to say that the drive back home was uneventful. These events usually wouldn't even carve a spot out on my radar - it's been easy to accept that things generally turn out just fine. Afterall, I've traveled the world and have always come home safely. What is there to fear? I think youth allows you to laugh at death, or even on a particularly good day, you might even squeeze in an eye-roll or two at an otherwise seemingly distant phenomena. Yet, now it's like a little dark cloud is following me around, just to challenge my resolve to remain optimistic. I guess the sunrise of consciousness casts long shadows.
Albert Camus, my absolute favorite thinker and writer, in his Lyrical and Critical Essays (which he wrote when he was 22...amazing!) best teases out my recent thoughts regarding death. He writes: "A young man looks the world in the face. He has not had time to polish the idea of death or of nothingness, even though he has gazed on their full horror. That is what youth must be like, this harsh confrontation with death, this physical terror of this animal who loves the sun" ("Nuptials," 77)
He continues: "Death and colors are things we cannot discuss. But can I really think about it? I tell myself: I am going to die, but this means nothing since I cannot manage to believe it and can only experience other people's death. I have seen people die. Then I think of flowers, smiles, the desire for women, and realized that my whole horror of death lies in my anxiety to live! I love life too much not to be selfish. What does eternity matter to me. ("Nuptials" 78)
This love of life, this saturated, infatuated demand and desire for closeness with the world is to understand the glory of loving life unconditionally in spite of the cruel irony that death creates. It is acknowledging the inevitability of death that frees you from its grip in a way, in which suddenly "learning patiently and arduously how to live" ("Nuptials" 69) becomes enough. All we must do as human beings then is learn how to live joyously despite the futility of our struggle. Indeed, "there is no love of life without despair of life" ("Love of Life," 56). and so perhaps my doubts place me in not such a bad place after all. Rather, I am just an animal who loves the sun.
Time to cast off the dark storm clouds.
Am I lucky or what?
I've been in a bit of a funk all day, and couldn't really tell you exactly why. There's a lot of things that have been weighing down my spirits the last few days. Yes, I lost my uncle to a horrible car accident, and watched Oma gasp for breath and fade before my eyes this past weekend. What's strange though is that after my good cry on Friday, I've felt so incredibly calm that really everything has seemed sort of surreal, a blur. I've jumped right back into everything - school, workouts, social stuff, and thesising - yet I almost feel like I've tiptoed through the last few days, waiting for the other shoe to drop, some other bad thing to happen, and I've warned Whoever or Whatever or Fate about the consequences of testing my strength again anytime soon. I'm just completely exhausted.
You cannot imagine (or maybe you can) how much more I've thought about death the last few days, how I waited for the text message from Mom telling me her flight landed safely, and Pop to say that the drive back home was uneventful. These events usually wouldn't even carve a spot out on my radar - it's been easy to accept that things generally turn out just fine. Afterall, I've traveled the world and have always come home safely. What is there to fear? I think youth allows you to laugh at death, or even on a particularly good day, you might even squeeze in an eye-roll or two at an otherwise seemingly distant phenomena. Yet, now it's like a little dark cloud is following me around, just to challenge my resolve to remain optimistic. I guess the sunrise of consciousness casts long shadows.
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| Just look at 'em! What a guy! |
He continues: "Death and colors are things we cannot discuss. But can I really think about it? I tell myself: I am going to die, but this means nothing since I cannot manage to believe it and can only experience other people's death. I have seen people die. Then I think of flowers, smiles, the desire for women, and realized that my whole horror of death lies in my anxiety to live! I love life too much not to be selfish. What does eternity matter to me. ("Nuptials" 78)
Time to cast off the dark storm clouds.
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