The Only Immortality We Can Be Sure Of.

Wow. It’s been almost six months since I started writing (and yes, blogging). I remember when six months seemed like a long time. Now — snap, blink, zoom — it’s summer.

I suppose that’s true of any block of time once it falls behind you. Even a good long run, glimpsed over the shoulder, is a short life.

Still, it bothers me. I get aging. Maturity. Experience. I get that. Makes sense.

But death? What a stupid way to end life.

Yeah, yeah, I know about the circle, eternal energy, returning to the source, heaven, reincarnation, all the scientific, natural, and spiritual reasons to recycle these borrowed atoms.

But seriously, who wants to end their life by dying? Be honest now.

Even if you believe in heaven of some sort, which I do, wouldn’t you still miss this place, this life? Even if you know you’re stepping into another room, wouldn’t you hesitate in the doorway?

Maybe Thich Nhat Hanh is right: the only immortality we can be sure about is right now. The present moment.

When I’m fully present, right here, right now, I feel eternal. Time passes slowly, the way time passes for evergreen elves in fairy tales. I’m not afraid of death. Not hurt by the past or scared by the future.

When I am here, I am immortal.

Gotta say, I feel better now. Writing myself down picks me up.

​I’ll never figure this all out, but it’s fun trying.

Comments

Media Jean: Sounds like you’re dad is on one of his “Death is stupid” kicks.

Chip: Yeah. He’s been losing a lot of sleep. I’ll wake up to get a drink of water and he’s sitting on the porch, looking at the stars.

Media Jean: Poor guy. What started it this time?

Chip: I think he feels life passing him by. He’s in his 40s and hasn’t achieved any of his big dreams.

Media Jean: I didn’t know your dad had big dreams.

Chip: Parents are funny that way. You think they’re just fine, then you find out they have all these secret dreams. It’s kind of weird, actually.

Media Jean: What kind of dreams?

Chip: Well, he wants to be a singer-songwriter.

Media Jean: You’re kidding?

Chip: You know, like Bob Dylan.

Media Jean: But your dad doesn’t like being in front of people.

Chip: I guess that’s what makes it a dream. It’s too bad, because he has a pretty good voice. And some of the songs he makes up in the shower are really good.

Media Jean: In the shower?!

Chip: Sometimes I listen outside the door. When I tell him, “You’re good,” he always says, “Yeah, shower good.”

Media Jean: Hmm. Hey, maybe he just needs proof!

Chip: What kind of proof?

Media Jean: Let’s set up a hidden video camera. Record him singing in the shower.

Chip: I don’t know…

Media Jean: A spy cam. From the shoulders up. Nothing embarrassing. We’ll post it on YouTube!

Chip: Well, he is really good.

Media Jean: Look, he dreams of being a singer, right? He just needs a little push onto the stage. What does he have to lose?

Chip: Whenever we ask that question about grown-ups, the answer is always, “More than you think.”

Media Jean: Oh, grown-ups take themselves too seriously! What’s that thing Thoreau said about dreams? He’s your dad’s favorite writer, isn’t he?

Chip: Something about advancing in the direction of your dreams…

Media Jean: Right! “If one advances ridiculously in the direction of one’s dreams, good things are bound to happen eventually.”

Chip: I don’t think that’s it.

Media Jean: Close enough. So… what do you say?

Chip: Let’s do it!

Media Jean: Great! I’ll come over and help you set up the spy cam.

Chip: I bet he’ll even thank us for this one day.

Media Jean: You bet! The best way to get over death is to get on with life, that’s what I say.

Chip: You sound a little like Thoreau yourself.

Media Jean: Ha! Now there’s a guy I’d like to catch singing in the shower! The old sour puss!

Chip: Ha ha! Thoreau singing in the shower at Walden Pond!

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