I got married about three weeks ago. And it felt like the culmination of a lot of the truths of my life. My wife was a beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted woman that I knew since I was five years old. All of the through-lines of my life were aligning, and the world was shining with this destined pairing. I was lucky, much luckier than most.
As with many life-defining moments, birth, death, marriage, moving, pregnancy, jobs, etc., I took an account of my life. I told the story of my life to myself in the manner of reflection. It’s rare to have a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. I mean, rare in that it happens once. I had one. I was passing through the membrane of possibility into reality, wherein I was married. Had a wife. Grown-up type shit.
And in thinking about life, it’s impossible to not inventory the experiences you’ve had, to look back with an eye for what has been, how it beat the path to now. I went deep with it. A son in the upper Midwest. How is it that I was once a baby? That I came here, not knowing anything? I learned how to crawl, to walk, to speak this language? Was that the same person I am now? How could it be. How could that small thing, without words to speak become this sorceror? I guess there’s a continuity between the baby me and the 38 year old me. That’s the case, that’s the way it goes. But it is more like a waveform. It’s a collection of points that are all riding the same energy. The cells in your body die every seven years. Your brain, boobs, butt, all are different matter in less than a decade. I think about how my mind used to work, I get it, it doesn’t work that way anymore. I grabbed a lot more humility, empathy, tact. I’d prefer for people to be impressed with my virtue than my rebelliousness.
Virtue probably is rebel shit though, now. I dunno.
Am I even really the same person that I was, way back when? That embryonic little guy, didn’t know what I know now? I want to be a good person not for the recognition but for the sake of it. For expressing love, being an advocate for people who are struggling. It’d be easy to judge, be harsh with the losers and the underbelly ratfolk. Easy to want to look down your nose at others. I wanna do universal love. I think that’d be perfect. We’ve all got that second number on the tombstone, it’s staring right back into you. Why wouldn’t you feel companionship, love, empathy?
Heaven won’t be someplace you get to after you die. It should be the project of those who are awake.
Leave a Reply