The Treasure Hunt

Friday February 28, 2014 8:54 pm

Have you ever stopped... just stopped and wondered about your life? I guess when I feel as I do I can't help but recall the quote, or aphorism, take your pick, “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and die with their song still inside them.” ~ (Thoreau) That's got to be me! But, if it is I'm not alone: it seems to be the human condition, and that thought doesn't cheer me either!

I'm not typically a sad person, or at least outwardly and those who know me best (though not at all really) would imagine I am an easy and free spirit. At least a half dozen times today at work I told odd and funny stories (on purpose) during breaks and lunch, just to see if I can still make people laugh? And apparently I can.

Why then do I not take joy unto myself? I have every good reason to be happy... as far as I know those I love best are all healthy and doing well. Why then is that by itself not enough? I'm grateful, I am. Why then is there always and forever even in the midst of good times this “quiet desperation” that is always with me and threatens to carry me away.

It cannot be a mid-life crisis... not unless I'm destined to live until 2072! I can even physically still do almost everything I could as a young man... and for that I am glad as well. I do some of those things though simply because I rail against death, and I try to push that specter as far into the future as I can.

However, I only see my life as a repetitive treadmill, I hop on and I can't find a way off. In a typical day I awake early, sometimes eat and sometimes not. I shower, dress, go to work. Then, maybe to the gym or some other place for a bit... then, home. At home I might read or see some TV or lift a little or something along those lines and eventually off to bed. What do you suppose happens then? You guessed it: “I awake early, sometimes eat and sometimes not. I shower, dress, go....” Do you see a pattern here :(

Honestly I think the only fun thing I have left in life is that I fight against growing old. Maybe I still enjoy that because it is a fight and I know it's one I can't really win! I suppose I can't imagine growing old gracefully??? I mean, I know a man my age who has already given up on life... years before he should have been old! He doesn't sit down in a chair, he falls into it! And whenever he tries to stand he heaves himself to his feet while making these God-awful grunts... just trying to stand! I'm like, “Please buddy, quit making those horrible sounds and I'll get a tow-motor and lift you up! Just please stop the old man sounds!” PLEASE!!!

Hair grows out of his nose, his ears... and his eyebrows look like two grown caterpillars have taken up permanent residence! I mean, I swear: is there no mirror in his house! And if he doesn't care... other people might! Look, I know it's a waste of time, I admit it! The inevitable is going to happen! Decay and death, if a person lives long enough it will happen, but until it does... fight it!

Dylan Thomas while watching his dad die wrote a famous poem that begins this way:

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

That's what I do... I fight it, a losing battle: of course! But I think it's the only thing I have left to me in life that allows me to hang on to the modest amount of sanity I still retain.

I miss Virgil :( He would always go walking or riding with me whenever I needed to sort some things out. He was such a dear friend to me... I really love him!!!!!!!