I remember the first time I heard The Beatles sing “and in the end, the love we take is equal to the love we make.”I was younger then. Of course.
I was much different too.
But so was the world and so was my address, so was my state of mind and my lifestyle and so were the times, and so was the people, places, and the things around me.
Life changes and so do we.
Love changes too and then again, the alterations and the changes we face can be eye-opening to say the least. The changes we experience can be partly lifesaving, partly hurtful, and partly hopeful that yes, in the end, the love we need is equal to the love we have. Or God . . .
so I hope.
And yet, I wonder.
And yet, I ponder.
I sit in the postmortem of my youthful past and think about the lifetimes behind me. I think about the changes and all the warnings I was promised along the way.
I think about the relative nature and the subjective findings to which I wish that I was open-minded. Or better yet, I wish I was open-minded enough to listen instead of be insulted or rebellious because, of course, we always think we know better.
“Don’t tell me how to live. I know what I’m doing!”
Famous last words, I suppose.
No one knows the future.
No one knows any better.
No one knows the where’s or the why’s and in all fairness, if we are lucky, we can resign our position here on Project Earth with a smile and say, yes, I did it the best I could!
No one knows who speaks and who lies or who tells the truth without flowering their position to look pretty or better.
I never really knew how ugly beauty could be. I never knew that beautiful things could be so deceiving and nor was I aware that pretty lies can hurt worse than ugliest truths.
And yes . .
they do!
We choose what we believe despite the variations between dark and light or truth and opinion.
I get this now.
I see how we deceive ourselves and yes, I can understand why . . .
It is easier to believe in the soft dreams of these pretty little lies than it is to be confirmed by the hard truths that somewhere between none and the excess is reality.
My reality is not yours
Yours is not mine.
Yet, we mingle and we barter and we trade and we exchange the interchangeable lies to satisfy our needs for “more!”
It is amazing to me now . . .
It is amazing to understand and realize that I have lived far longer than I expected. I am facing different challenges now. And more, I am facing changes from both a physical, emotional, and from a mental perspective.
And yes.
Of course, I am insane
I am as insane as anyone else here.
or maybe I am worse.
or like my friend Dangerous Dan the Marathon Man used to tell me, “Some are sicker than others and in my case, I am one of the some!”
Maybe this fits me to a tee.
At the same time, I cannot say that I neither predicted nor expected a younger death so much as I never considered that I would become me at this age.
Age is something that happens to old people.
Or so I thought.
What is this thing we call midlife?
And perhaps I am far or way beyond the midsection of my existence. And perhaps I am much closer to my end than I am the beginning.
This is true.
Of course this is true.
I know this is true.
Each day is one day closer to the inevitable.
Each day is one day closer to the day when I breathe my last breath and face my maker who will ask me why?
And I will have to answer.
But I have no answers.
Or perhaps it is best that my answers are less attractive, which is why people lie about their truths because no one wants to be ugly. Hence, this is why I avoid the mirrors around me; to avoid my truths and to hide my blemishes, which keep me deceived.
I know this.
I understand this.
However, age has caused me to understand this from a more critical and crucial perspective. Therefore, I come to you from an understanding which is more informed than say, back when I was a young man in my twenties. I am far more enlightened than I was when I swore that the end of my life was too far away from me to consider.
I used to wear younger clothes.
I used to plan to die to defy my own death too.
I used to dance more.
I used to dare the sunrise and outlive the dawn and live to fight another day.
At the same time, i was never so cowardly as I was when i thought I knew it all.
I suppose youth comes with a special bliss.
I can say this bliss is attached to a beautiful and youthful ignorance. And more, I suppose the bliss of youth led me to believe in the plethora of tomorrows.
For example, there was always going to be a tomorrow.
There would always be a day after.
However, I used my collection of chances and perhaps I splurged too often and cared too little about the waste of time or the waste of money and energy.
I swore that chances and opportunities would always flow like a river. I swore there would always be another tomorrow or another chance to take a shot.
And of course, if one door closed, I always assumed another door would open.
And I am sure this is still true in some cases.
Or maybe this is only true, at least to a point.
However, beauty is beauty and much of the beauty we see can fade or grow distant like the stars above. Time is the greatest revelation and like the sun, time dawns on us all.
Therefore, we see how the fake facades and the plastic and transparent views are see-thru and weak beneath the light of the sun.
I am older now.
I am fading in too many ways and yet, there is a part of me that wants to dance longer, harder, and much more than before.
Am I alone with this?
Am I too far gone?
Have I missed the entrance?
Or is this like when we drive and forget to pay attention, and when we do this, is this the same feeling I have now as it is when we miss the exit on the highway and then we have to change our direction?
Is that what this is?
Maybe the precautionary warnings have become my cautionary tales. And maybe I leave these things here like a scroll to be found by some kind of weary traveler.
And now, I am older of course. I am supposed to be wiser or at minimum; I can say that I am more experienced.
Maybe . . .
However, even experiences can become misinterpreted or misunderstood. Therefore, I step forward this morning and enter the pre-November air and feel the cool winds before the sunrise comes out to change the sky.
I suppose I agree that in the end, the love we take is equal to the love we make
You get what you give
You give what you get and in some cases, or as it is with most people, we focus on the need and the details of more. And I say more as an addict of excess.
I say more as a man who bleeds and thrives on desires. I say more as a small boy who never seemed noticed and more, when I say that I want more, I say this as a small child, bullied and beaten, abused and cheated, and when I say more, I say this because I want more more than life could possibly bring me.
It is a sad but true thing that time and age are undefeatable teachers. It is equally beautiful and sad that age causes us to notice smaller things that we used to ignore . . . or take for granted.
I never knew the way the sun went down would have the same effect as it does to me now. I remember the first time I heard Simon and Garfunkel sing a song called Bookends. I remember the words, “long ago. It must be. I have a photograph.” I can relate this to an emotion of all that went behind me and all who are gone, and I relate this to those who left, who died, and who chose to not move on with me,
The song completes with the lyrics, “Preserve your memories. They’re all that’s left to you.”
And so . .
I say long ago. It must be.
I have some photographs.
I would love to preserve my memories since they are all that’s left to me.
I just need to improve on the memories I have with the little time I have left.
I am alive on borrowed time, I suppose.
And if this is so, then let me make this so
wholeheartedly
