There's something in the air this week that is causing me, over and over again, to think about mortality. Perhaps it is my immersion in Shakespeare's voluminous texts---or perhaps, the (crossed-fingers) hope of a new job---or perhaps, the declining weeks of this year's academia. I'm not sure what it is---I'm not sure where it places me---but it's there, a pushing thought. I had a realisation, today, about all those hopes---you know, the things we hope one day to achieve and the people we hope one day to meet---either as fresh, new acquaintances or a reunion of souls. And I was thinking that as these things fall into place, as they get crossed off and cheered by a smile, that they're just another step. So what happens when those things start falling into place? When we start achieving what we have wanted to achieve---when we reach a certain stage of contentment---when we see that person we wished one day we would, just so we could reassure them, once, that things are okay? Does it mean the end is nigh---that they are just consolatory and preparatory moments?
It's a tilting question.
But the answer, too, is there. Because in that realisation, there is another, better realisation. There is the reminder that yes, everything is preparatory---for the next thing and for the thing after that---and that yes, everything is intended as an ascension to the field of the content. Because otherwise, why would we try? Why would we want those endeavours if they weren't, ultimately, for that happiness? But the biggest realisation is that those thoughts---those questions of doubt---are the wall that surrounds that happiness? Because they leave us feeling perpetually on edge, balancing a rope of life too lax above the ground. Because thoughts like that---well, thoughts like that don't allow us to be---or to enjoy or to savour. And with them, with them built up so tightly around our minds, we forget to live in the first place.
And I am trying, so hard, to teach myself this. I'm trying, so hard, to let those worries slide, melt and pool around my feet---and to not, absolutely not, carry them as a weight.
But it's a long, sporadic journey. I can tell you that.