Will I Live Forever

AA012638

Looking back at my life, I realize how much time I have spent trying to connect with others.  And in the end, what do I get?

I know that I am not at the end of my life yet, but let’s say that I was, that this was my last day.

I am all alone now.  Everyone I have known is going their own way.  I wonder if my presence matters.

My presence matters to me, but does it matter to the others?

Take my best friend, for example.  He was my cousin.  He was my best friend from age 10 to probably 25.  Then both of us got married and with time we stopped seeing each other, then we stopped writing and now he is nothing more than a facebook image.

We could reconnect and make our friendship meaningful again, but then we could never reconnect ever.  At this point in his life, I don’t think my presence matters to him.  And his presence does not really matter to me either.  It could be him or it could be another, but it would be nice to have a friend.

But friends don’t last forever.  Or do they?  It depends on my life.  Does my life last forever?  Will I live forever?  Will a part of me never die?

If I live forever and all the friends that I ever had live forever also, then how can I say that friends don’t last forever?

So many things depend on whether or not I live forever.  And THIS, from where I stand today, is a question of belief or faith.

From what I perceive with my five senses, death is a reality and death is the end of life as I know it.  Death of the physical body that is — deterioration of the flesh and bones.

But some say that my consciousness will remain… alive, or aware.  And there are many indications that this might be true.  But no physical proof, of course, since consciousness is not physical.

It’s funny that the Universe did not bother giving me more concrete proof of everlasting life if this is indeed my destiny.  As if it didn’t matter.  It DOES matter!  Every decision I take could and should be based on the fact that either death is the end or it’s not.

Why does Life think that it’s a good idea to keep me in the dark when it come to this question?  If my life is eternal, why does Life choose to show me that the death of my physical body means the end of me?  It seems like a very important question, but Life seems to mock me.

Advertisements

I Suck at Friendship

Unsociability6

I ask myself:  Do I have any friends?  Aside from family members and excluding blog followers or followees, do I have any real friends?

The answer is no.

A real friend to me is someone whose presence I value to the point of feeling sad and torn at the thought of their death.  There is no one in my life at the moment who fits this category.  Therefore I must conclude that I have no friends.

I feel ashamed.

How did it come to this?

I know:  marriage.

I spent the last 17 years of my life trying to maintain the friendship I had with my wife, and in the end it failed.  Or maybe it didn’t.  We still talk to each other.  But our relationship doesn’t meet my above definition of “a real friend.”  I don’t feel sad or torn at the thought of her death.

Maybe there’s something wrong with my definition.  Is it too extreme?  Is it normal to have become so unattached to people?  Maybe it comes with age.  I don’t know, I’ve never been this old before.  I am older than I have ever been and my life came with no instructions manual.  So I’m not sure of anything.

I wonder if there is a point in life where it becomes impossible to make real new friends.  It seemed easier when I was young.  But as I get older, it’s even difficult to imagine.  I have so much baggage.  The people my age have so much baggage too.  How could I start a fresh new friendship while carrying so much baggage?

The fact that I’m an introvert does not make the prospect look any brighter either.  Having online friends is probably the best I can hope for.  Who could tolerate my presence face to face?  It would take quite a special person.  I wonder if anyone would really enjoy being close to me.

I’m like the guy in the photo above.  My face is a computer monitor that has been switched off.  It reveals nothing of what is inside.  No data is visible.  It’s just a blank screen.  And I’m so sensitive, it’s like my body is covered with buttons.  Who knows what would happen inside my central processing unit if someone would push one of my buttons.

If I had a plug I would pull it out of the socket.

Rock This Marriage

I did something unusual two months ago. I went ahead and rented myself an apartment.

My wife thought I was planning a divorce but no, this was not my plan. I don’t want a divorce, I don’t even want to separate, I just want my own place.

It turns out that my wife doesn’t want a divorce either, and now she is happy that I got my own place. At first she was shaken a bit and didn’t know what to think, but as the weeks went by she got used to the idea, and today she is glad and says that we should have done this a long time ago.

So why stay married?

There are many reasons why we both want to remain married:
– the children (we have two aged 13 and 11)
– no interest in getting romantically involved with anyone else
– material and financial benefits
– our friendship

I took the risk. I knew it would shake things up but wasn’t sure how she would react. I expected the worst but hoped for the best.

The logic I used was quite simple, really. I thought: “She spends so much money buying useless things for herself, why should I not spend the same amount for something useful that might actually make us happier?”

I wanted my own apartment more than anything, plain and simple. Some people have a main residence as well as a lakeside cottage. Why could we not have a main residence plus an apartment within the same city?

“Happily married couples don’t do this,” some say.
“Well I honestly think that they should,” I reply.

Maybe long-term marriages would be happier if couples would stop forcing themselves to live under the same roof 24/7.

We are, first and foremost, individuals. I think that the phrase “and the two shall become one” is bullshit. Two people never become one except in fairy tales.

This move, along with some other minor financial adjustments, has solved all of our marital problems. Now our marriage rocks.

Waves

waves6

What if we are like the waves of the ocean…
Each person is a wave…
All of the waves are connected underwater…
Above the water, the waves crash against each other.

It’s beautiful to watch the waves in action…
But terrible if you think that they are fighting.
Are the waves battling each other?
Maybe… but deep down they are joined together.

Humans are like waves…
Always rubbing against each other…
Arguing, fighting, attempting to connect…
Above the water that is, the exterior.

But we are profoundly connected already…
Deep down, underneath the roaring sea…
Whether we are aware of it or not…
Whether we believe it or not.

Pairing Up

Twins4

I detach from physicality.  Look around for a person.  The first man I see, is a guy just like me.  I wonder if he is lonely.  He just detached from his physicality too.  So we are two.

I walk up to him to check his disposition.  We cannot talk because language is not used in this dimension.  But we can communicate.  I look at him.  He is pure, I see and I know because of the color of his glory.  I see right through him.  He is compatible with me.

How do I greet him?  He’s waiting for me to initiate.  I touch him gently, look him in the eyes and translate.  To communicate to him that I am his friend or his mate.  He replies positively and I’m so glad we agree.

I step back to contemplate.  I look at every inch of his ethereal body.  I don’t see genitals.  Angels don’t have them apparently.  They are, we are, gender free.  We have celestial bodies, similar to humans, but our genitals are not visible.  Our color is blue but not dreary.

I hug him.  I hold him.  He holds me.  Our arms are wrapped around each other.  My head on his shoulder.  I hug him and smell him.  His fragrance is sweet, it’s a warm encounter.  We exchange vibrations from our navels to our centers.  We synchronize our demeanors.

I’m curious, thirsty for an exchange of information.  Where does he come from?  But then I wonder…  where do I come from?  Then I remember.  I come from sorrow, planet Oppress.  Where I experienced separation and loneliness.

My companion does not come from the same place.  I’m not sure he understood, but he does now.  He sees it through me and he feels gloomy.  He grabs my arms.  He has seen where I come from.  So he shows me where he came from.  Anger.  He comes from a place where he was angry.

He broke many things.  He was joined to his brothers, but destroyed property.  But he learned how to detach from emotionality.  So we recognize that we come not from the same place, but that we both managed to elevate ourselves above and beyond iniquity.  Thanks to grace.

We study each other and wonder if we could travel together.  Why not try, we know each other.  We agree to walk together.  We look around.  Where do we go?  He has a jet pack and so do I.  Why walk when you can fly.  So up we go.

Out of the house where we met, we move up above the ground and stop to look around.  We see lights.  It appears to be nighttime.  We could sleep but we are not sleepy.  The atmosphere feels fresh and sassy.  Excitement floats in the air.  And potential too.  Let’s relish the view and explore as a pair.

Vanity

Vanity1.png

I can’t believe that you are still trying to impress me.  After fifteen years of living together, you are still doing it.

I am not at all impressed by the fact that you are trying to impress me.  It’s not funny anymore.  It’s sad.  Stop telling me how wonderful you are, it only makes you look awful.  Don’t tell me how much your boss and your friends admire you.  This does nothing for me.  I don’t get it.  Do you think this will make me love you more?

You are so proud of yourself.  This is all I hear coming out of your mouth.  How much progress you have made, how much money you make and how many compliments you’ve received today.  It makes me feel sick.  It doesn’t make me want to hug you.

Show me your vulnerability instead.  Allow yourself to be weak and flawed in my presence.  This will impress me, because it’s reality.  The truth is what impresses me, don’t you see?

I know you want to be loved, but you’re doing it wrong.  You’ve been doing it all wrong since the beginning.  Vanity is not what will make me want to remain friends with you.  Not even your smiles.  I want to see you cry.  I want to see you recognize and regret every single word you have ever said to manipulate me.  Your words don’t impress me, they disgust me.  Be real, be defective like a normal person.  Show me the insecure side of you and I will take you in my arms to protect you.

As long as you play strong, as long as you act great and speak in vain, I will not want to be near you.  I wish you would understand this.  I wish you could realize this on your own.  Because if I tell you, I know what you will do.  You will pretend to be vulnerable just to impress me again.  It won’t be real and it won’t work.  It has to come from you.

When will you stop trying to impress me?  I can’t take it anymore.  When I see you coming, I want to run and hide.  I know what you will say.  You are so predictable.  I know how marvelous you are already.  I know, I married you!  But each time you tell me how perfect you are, it’s like you are telling me how much of a loser you think I am, because I am the opposite of you.

I know, I should love a person as flawless as you.  I should, really.  But there must be something wrong with me because I hate you.

Secret Stuff

Secret Stuff

Writing the secret stuff.
I often wonder how to do it.
Especially what words to use.
One wrong word and you lose the reader.

I don’t want to lose the reader.
If I write it’s to be read.
To establish a connection.
A deep connection between two strangers.

I think the secret stuff is what unites us.
It’s what makes us one.
Nothing superficial really unites anyone.
Not in any permanent way anyway.