We Are Born Alone and We Die Alone
In between the rush of life and the shuffle of death is the kaleidoscopic quest to pursue the meaning of life. To collect a vault of experiences and sensations is perhaps the universal goal of inquiring minds. To contrast and compare, to measure and define, to enrich ourselves by converting mystery into enlightenment. Writ large it is an undercurrent driving humanity toward a global socialization and understanding of itself. We are a tumultuous sea formed of single, independent, and solitary beings, yet we are also collaborative, interlinked, and dependent.
In our incipient nature we are empty vessels. Dry as a potters kiln, our minds thirst for the water of truth. We venture upon decades of spiritual constitutionals and intellectual sojourns. It seems a right of passage and perhaps not so pro forma if the quality, quantity, and substance of the distilled product is profound. We each become a vessel of acquired worth, transliterating experiences for the good of all, and a mechanism to concentrate the essence of interpreted wisdom. Enriched, enlightened, insightful.
And Yet Still Alone
Is it any wonder at a given point the mature mind suddenly turns in upon itself, seeking that awe inspiring kernel of sagacity, derived from seeming ages of passionate discovery, and tries to focus the lens of life? For some of us the profundity doesn’t come. The lens doesn’t sharpen into magnificent clarity, the eureka moment never comes to mind, and the mist of uncertainty doesn’t burn away. Becoming wise and valuable is a wonderful gift to the ages, but from a self interested perspective its a lonely slog with different questions.
On a cold and lonely introspective day, it occurred to me that we try and encompass life to wrestle it to our needs. We devourer excitement as if its fuel to power us to the next challenge and bite off another piece of life to taste,sample, and categorize. But after years of this I find that all I have from this wisdom is “The Scream.” And as the often paraphrased expression goes “no one can hear you scream” anyway. The agglomeration of knowledge and experience, as positive as it undoubtedly is, has left me cold.
In the End its All Sterile
I am one of “those people” who engages everyone he encounters, tries to find worth and value everywhere, and hopes that in that short or long lived association an exchange of value is achieved. Invariably, most of these people feel “blank” to me. Please don’t misapprehend my meaning. Blank means there was no cognitive or emotional recognition, no mutual affinity, no psychological hook or handle I could grasp for continued passage down their “road.” It makes me vaguely disconcerted, as if I am lacking somehow.
There is no more exhilarating experience than when one of those blanks become a matrix of color, light, and brilliant cognition. Even though its unlikely that the recognition will blossom in to a friendship (they are rare for me), its exhilarating to sense and see some commonality amongst the otherwise vacant uninhabited beings around me. And it occurred to me that the meaning of life in all its glory has nothing to do with the pursuit of exploration and experiences.
Life is About the Souls Around You
Most of us will have many people around us through life; associates, friends, family, and lovers are perhaps the most likely. And they will all flit and fly in and out and perhaps back into our lives at regular or not so intervals. Without them all the acquired knowledge in the world will not forfend the bitterest of agonies perpetrated by simple loneliness. To be sure, the disharmony caused by the variance (wide or narrow) in emotions, intellects, or psychologies can make the most placid of amiable spirits to crave residence on the dark side of the moon. But taken in their totality, these beings, these vessels of mirth, light and joy, are what are lives become and are thereby sustained.
A Sudden Symphony of the Spirit
If life is about the dearest individuals in our lives, then the transcendental meaning of life must be found in the being who is my soul-mate. This person could never be a blank. Its more likely you would see your reflection in their eyes. All the trite expressions are of course true: they finish sentences for each other, they like the same things, they speak to each other without talking, and they are never apart even when physically separated. All true and mostly superficial.
If you are fortunate to find such a creature, you will discover a nature softer and stronger than your own. You will find strength to wake each day and be fortified in the knowledge you are truly sacred to another beating heart. Its an unearthly sensation of sublime fortune that you could be gifted in such a way.
Perhaps some will read this and proclaim it so much narcissistic pablum. If so I would commend to your attention the explicit nature of a soul-mate: they understand you, they “get you,” and are capable of teaching, enlightening, and if necessary cajoling you in the most expeditious way possible.
I wish for all of you to find this angelic being. You all deserve it and they will help you grow in ways you perhaps cant now conceive. Some of you will find a friend who is your alter-self. Others of us will find their soul-mate sharing the person of a lover. And in this I offer a caution, a lover soul-mate is an explosive consummate ecstasy. You can lose yourself in your other self. It’s the most poignant pilgrimage to discovery you will ever encounter.
In My Life
I’ll leave you with my rambling opinions and characteristic philosophizing. But before I go I want to leave you with some words by John Lennon. They express my thoughts precisely about the virtue of a soul-mate:
“But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life, I’ll love you more”
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Like a Sad Song
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