Beam Me Up Scotty: Happy Mother's Day
I looked at last year's Mother's Day post to see what was on my mind-moving to Oklahoma, taking care of Uncle John, learning to walk. What really struck me, and always does when I look back, as how any of the things I wrote about could really matter...but at the time, they did.
Today I was in a funk and thinking the whole life thing from birth to death was kind of pointless. For instance, John is leaving us with no great insight or this is what it was all about that he chooses to share. I don't ask him about it because I don't want him to feel pressured to divulge something or worse, to think I'm suggesting it's time he go.
But then, I suddenly and finally got it. Yep, the whole, what's the point thing became clear.
The whole meaning of life is the living of it, moment to moment, and sharing that moment with what collective consciousness there is to share it with. There is no grand finale-HERE is YOUR PINNACLE-it's just the day to day living that is the entire point of the exercise. For instance, right now, the sharing of this moment-the writing in the dark on my sunporch with a bit of a gassy stomach moment-that is precisely what I have to share (and maybe I just shared too much).
Life is keenly interested in all these moments, the gassy ones, the sad ones, the not so grand ones. Only people are interested in the grand finales, entrances and exits.
And, I apply the same twisted logic to everything. I can't quite figure out the perfect ending, so I fail to begin so many things, or make false starts, etc. I used to think ending was like the final grade on a report card-was it worth the effort or not? But it's the effort itself that has value and merit, the end is just that, the end.
One of the things I saw during this week's funk was how little I value anything I do, even if I think the end is pretty ok. Maybe it's time to judge less and do more. Maybe I feel like a failure because a year's worth of angst and effort and no one is living happily ever after, in fact, they are all getting closer to death.
But my value added to the equation was that no one was alone, and every one of my old people had some smiles and happy moments they wouldn't have had, and so did I for that matter.
Sometimes I feel guilty because I get bored with the old grim reaper and want to think about going to Mexico and swimming with my fishes. But I'm sure Life is keenly interested in swimming with the parrot fish under the bridge at Xel Ha. Hell, maybe the grim reaper would like to come along too.
I love those little statues of devils riding motorcycles-maybe the reaper could take up snorkeling.
Somehow it's easier to let my own elder's die their own deaths than it is for me to let my daughter live her own life. But declaring myself a failure for her choices is about as logical as declaring myself a failure as a child because my parents are aging. So, I miss her, and I love her, and do wish her well wherever she is. She is doing the same as I, adding to Life's catalogue of experiences, and neither one of us are failures.
So Happy Hallmark Mother's Day!