Dying is for Suckers

Dying is for suckers so I'm not going to do it. Think about it. Wouldn't it change the way you looked at the world. Wouldn't it change your itinerary, your goals in life? Don't die. Just don't do it. It makes everything so much easier.

I meet people that are scared shitless of dying everyday. Most don't explicitly state it but I can tell. They proudly and importantly talk about their accomplishments and their achievements. They educate me on them because I am meant to appreciate their worth. They mention their boat, their overseas holiday house that they barely visit. The mansion they live in. They speak of their possessions as if holding onto them like they are slipping away. Good for them, I think. They may have generated considerable wealth. They may have established small empires for themselves. But what does it all mean? They're going to die. I'm not bothered with any of it.

That's not to say that I don't try to accomplish great things. That's not to say that I'm not after a home and a holiday. I'm just not in such of a rush. I'm in no hurry. I just take my sweet time. The outlook is pretty cruisy when you think eternal.

All I'm after is a decent conversation, a hike in the hills, a play in the surf. I'm here to learn and to share, to enjoy and to grow. You would think I'd be more concerned about advancing empires in the time that I have. When you are not going to die you can build something that can trump anyone else's. You can spend more time working and more time investing. You can buy more land and afford more labourers. The truth is, this is still a waste of time. Even though I have all the time in the world, there are so much better things for me to do.

I would rather tell people that they shouldn't die because it is that simple. All they need to do is realize that they have a choice and choose not to do it. Just don't do it!

There are so many sunrises waiting to be seen from mountaintops. There are so many seas to be sailed. There are crops to plant and feasts to be shared at harvest. There is nothing else for us to do and there is no need to overcomplicate it.

I'm not going to die.

Even when my body is riddled with cancer and I'm on my deathbed.

Dying is for suckers.

My Wife, Lost in the Wild

I pictured you arriving late and there was apprehension on all of the guests faces but I wasn’t worried in the slightest. They watched the clock and looked at each other, no words spoken and each one taboo. They would look upon my face to try and gain understanding for the circumstances, some justification for their concern but I gave none away. I took it all in. I was aware of the tension and invited it. I inhaled it and enjoyed the way it filtered through my lungs and into each of the smallest passages. I stared intently at the doors at the end of the building - if anything - inwardly smiling for the comfort and peace I knew given the place I stood.

You come through the doors smeared in mud with grazed knees. Past late and overdue, some of your clothes are torn and hanging off your body. Your hair is wild and unkempt, glued together in places in the formation of clumps. You’re barefooted. No make-up. Your fringe covers half of your face and you’ve given up trying to brush it to the side.

I wouldn’t want anything else.

People turn and look at you when you burst through the doors. They don’t recognize you. They don’t know who you are. Their eyes follow you as you walk down the aisle. The music man forgets to play the tune. You have a captive audience.

This is how my baby does it. Resolute and against all odds.

There is a story here but there is no need to tell. I don’t know it but at the same time I know it all.

Maybe your breathing is heavy. Maybe it is not. Maybe things have almost killed you. Maybe your steps are unsteady. Maybe you stumble as you make your way to me. Maybe you have endured the unthinkable.

Heartbroken, out of place, in disrepair, unwanted, troubled, lost, confused, guilty, odd. We've been all of these things.

Your eyes are on mine and mine on yours.

The rest. It doesn’t matter at all.

Finding it

Sometimes you’ll be in a place and all you want to do is find it. You’ll feel completely lost, completely incapable, completely hopeless. You will search high and low, near and far but the feeling and the loss is inescapable. You’ll be walking alone, amongst the crowd and the traffic. You’ll blast music in your ears without listening. Words will not make sense and emotions will only polish the edge of something you cannot convey. There will be silence when all you want to hear is a small clear voice. There will be noise, deafening scrambled noise when all you want to hear is quiet. There will be this small seemingly insignificant spot inside you that is empty and in realizing this you will discover that that small insignificant spot is actually all that needs to be filled and the remaining space has no bearing or importance in life whatsoever. You will retrace your steps till you found the point where you went wrong. You will remember the time when you had or was close to finding it. You’ll remember how important this thing was. You will realize that this is all that really matters. That this is all you need. Then you will carry on. You feel the sun on your face and the ground at your feet. You will continue as you always continued in all the noise and lights. In all the hum and all the fuss. You’ll run and watch everything blur like everyone else. You’ll watch everything get complicated. The world is a dizzying kaleidoscope. You’ll find yourself lost again. You’ll realize how far you have traveled from where you were. You’ll be in that same place. Completely lost, feeling completely incapable, hopeless. The scenery and the happenings and interactions that fill it will suddenly seem all disconnected. And all you’ll want to do is find it...

FISH III: I am an avatar

This continues the story about a young man called 'Fish'. In 2011 he quit his job because he hated it so much and ventured forth into foreign lands to seek enlightenment and a lifestyle where he could retire at the age of 26 (see A Short Story, A Parable, A Tale of a Man Who Hates His Job)  only to find himself lonely and isolated and questioning what exactly he was doing with his life (Sink or Swim). Now, March 2012 the story continues...

FISH RETURNS TO THE CITY and is invited and obliged to tag along to various dinner parties with young adults his age. He doesn't really know any of them, at least he didn't really before and given the setting doubted he ever would. But his friends - the one's that he did know - thought they owed it to him to invite him to such places. He had gone for years without "regular civilized social interaction" and they thought a decent amount of reintroduction was necessary.

So he sat and ate his meal carefully with the cutlery, smiled and laughed when prompted, like all the others when they laughed - such wonderful and exaggerated laughs!

Everything with an exclamation mark!

The conversation so witty!

Sighs so poignant!

Jobs so interesting!

Holidays so brilliant!

The drama!

Excitement!

Excitement!!!!!!!!

He didn't feel at ease in such settings and wondered if anyone else at the table actually did. Amidst the conversation he scanned his eyes around the room at all the knick knacks and posters and paintings and statues and empty bottles of alcohol that should have been put in the recycling months ago but seem to like being left out on display.

"Why?" fish asks himself. 

He finds himself at various friend's homes in the days that ensue. They have not seen him for so long and long for his company but soon he is sat down on their couch and a downloaded cartoon episode of the Last Airbender or something along those lines is put on. He watches as the Avatar who is specially skilled bends and manipulates water, fire, earth and air. She moves to the city where she wants to extend her skill and training but there is a protest in the streets and they chant desires to rid the city of Airbenders because they are detrimental to society and cannot be trusted.

Fish does not care for the show but his friends are enthralled. He looks out the window and thinks of suggesting doing something outside later otherwise he knows that another one of these shows will be put on after this one has finished. These were his geeky friends. This is what they always did. Bored, he googles the meaning of avatar. One of the meanings interests him;

2.

an embodiment or personification, as of a principle, attitude, or view of life.

  

The next day it is sunny and he rides a bus through town. On the bus half of the passengers sit staring into their cell phones and three quarters are plugged into iPods. Outside Fish notices that there is a coffee shop almost every four shops and they are all full with people sitting in front of them sipping their medicated beverages. He refuses to be like them. Reliant. Not in control. Suckered into and addicted to an expensive and unnecessary social norm.

The night before a news broadcast had stated that there were plans to send people to Mars because life is habitable there. There were already people in training for the harsh living conditions but they were excited that the place was 'liveable'.

Why send people to Mars when you can live somewhere like Arizona? is all he had thought about since hearing such news.

He wants to take all his clothes off in the bus.

It's the answer, he thinks.

No pretense. No hiding. The truth will set you free as long as you are willing to look at it. Everyone needs to do it.

But he reaches his bus stop and walks down the street and down a small garden path to his friends door and as he presses the buzzer he gets the feeling that he is an avatar. 

He just needs to harness his skills.

He hears rushing footsteps growing louder and the door swings open and his friend, all dressed up, envelops him in a huge excitable hug.

'It's so nice out' she says. 'Let's go get a coffee!'