4/29/04 - Birthday Ramblings...
Today is my birthday... and, being a songwriter type (and a human
being) I've spent the sunny California day intermittently pondering
the meaning of life. You know, the big questions,
what
am I doing
here,
where
are the thunderous revelations from giant bearded faces in the sky,
am I happy, am I where I want to be, am I gonna be a rock star, is
my butt too big etc etc...
In between taking my shirt
to the drycleaners, going to work,
making
lunch,
cleaning
the
smudges
off my driving glasses, dropping some old china off at the Goodwill
and plucking my eyebrows, I boiled the issue down to two evergreen
old questions:
1) what makes life worthwhile, and
2) why are we so
obsessed with knowing
what
makes
life
worthwhile?
I cycled lazily through the usual laundry list of worthwhile things
-- love, friendships, music, sunsets, self-realization, red wine, the
kindness
of strangers...
all true after a fashion, but not really what I was looking for...
As for the obsession with knowing why, I started thinking that it seems
to
be
part and parcel
of the
enormous, ravenous human capacity to crave, to need, to want,
to desire, to long for, to seek out, to hunt down, to pack up, to box
away, to close off, to destroy...
So then I thought, maybe the way to truly make life
worthwhile, enjoyable, fulfilling,
would
be
to
put an end to
this
need
to know
what makes
life worthwhile, enjoyable
and fulfilling. To stop this drive to pack ideas and thoughts neatly
into boxes; this drive to categorize and photograph and record every
little thing; to "understand" it; to
pin
our existence
up like
a dead butterfly in a dusty
glass case and glance at it with enormous self-satisfaction once a
week on Sundays over tea and biscuits.
For some reason, that Monty Python skit then came to mind, where all
the great
philosophers
are
busily
running
around playing football (that's
soccer
to the Americans among you); along with my friend
Toby's belief that the world would be a far better place if
only everyone
traveled
by ostrich, and my recollection of the time I went swimming in the
sea in England in winter with all my clothes on and then travelled
home
for
an hour on the train dripping wet and freezing cold.
Utter absurdity. Maybe it's the answer to everything? You can't successfully
argue against it or truly understand it because its premise never made
sense in the first place. So you can't pin it up and lock it away.
It takes you outside the dusty glass case you live
in
every
day,
makes you
look
at
the world
a
little differently.
And that can only be a good thing, I think.
Maybe some form of happiness
then lies in allowing thought, belief and existence to be organic,
ever-changing, always in motion; an interplay of ideas rather than
a framed painting with a set composition etched on its canvas?
Eh. What do I know? I'm just a year older... and still very
much in love with friendship, music and red wine... :)
I recently
shared
a silly little
secret of mine with a friend, that I often go and stand in a ridiculous
place in my house, a place where I would never usually be, and
spend time viewing the room from there (last week it was underneath
the kitchen countertop). It opens things up somehow. I guess all
absurdity
does that, all paradox does that, showing us that there is much
we have not thought of, and much we are entirely incapable of understanding.
Ever... So that maybe there is no need for answers.
And for some reason
that makes me very happy.
It made me even happier when my friend smilingly admitted that he
does the same thing...
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