Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Death and Moving

Life on the move.

There was a time back on Monday, May 26, 2006 where I had a blog. Not just any blog, a myspace blog. And I would write in that blog. More than anything the swearing stands out. And the fact that nothing was capitalized. I must have been on an e e cummings kick. So here is one thing I ruminated on back in those days:

i know it's emo but...
Current mood:emo.
ok. so here is what i think death is. death is like moving to another area. once you move and adjust fully, you don't care about the previous place.

i was at buenos grill today just eating outside with my family when it dawned on me, i don't care about belmont anymore. i mean i care about the people i left behind, and i really love the area because it is beautiful but it's just not on my mind.

and that is death, just another leg, a new place to explore and become familiar with, you just don't care about the past anymore. but of course, you may make the journey back again to see old friends or visit familiar places, but the new chapter is too engulfing for anything previous to really be a priority.

conversely, that is how we view death. once someone dies, we may briefly dwell upon their absence but eventually our attentions are pulled away and we can't put the energy into caring about it anymore. i know my old friends don't spend their days wondering what i am doing just like i don't spend my time wondering what my grandfather is doing. you accept it and move on...

i dunno. too emo but it seems to make sense to me.

And I believe I have now died several times in my life. And I don't know if I feel how I did. Every move is a painful reminder of the previous ones. And what I think of as passing on is not just the slow fading of pain over time, but a willful forgetfulness that we all experience. What use is the pain of a lost love? We move on because we have to, because there is some sort of intangible justice in the act of recovering—not because we want to or because it fades slowly. While the metaphor may hold weight, I am finding myself thinking more and more about the things I should do to keep those connections even though geography—and life—separates us.

And that is what I'm willing to fight for now; the ability to see and thank those that matter so much to me. That is why I am getting a job. I refuse to give up my dreams. Because only in dreams do we meet those who have died. That is life; it is expansive beyond the barriers of human mortality and to transcend it we must refuse to accept its conditions of surrender.

Perhaps I'm the foolish optimist now; perhaps I've fallen off the deep end. Perhaps the younger me is the smarter me.