Monday 19 January 2004

I suppose friends are people you can do things together with even though you don't have to. (Picture from anime Uninhabited Planet Survive.)

Then and now and then

I've been writing this journal for well over five years. And it seems to me that back then I was a little happier, a little more cheerful than now. It's not like I'm depressed today, by human standards certainly not. But it seems to me there is less cheer in my life.

My first thought is that this is because back then, I believed I had friends. Not many, and not nearby, but still friends. Now I hesitate to use even that word. I do have acquaintances, people who know who I am. I have relatives, people who know who I was. And there are people I like. But I don' really think I have friends. I also think most people have less friends than they believe. Well, except the really depressed ones, who probably have more friends than they believe, at least until they manage to chase them away with their Aura of Negativity.

But also when I look through my archives, I see that even a few years ago, I was still more emotional than I am now. As I pointed out myself at the time, I generally had only two feelings: Fear and happiness. I guess now I feel less of both. It is good to feel less fear and worry. But I guess the price is that I don't go that much above zero either. Each day is like the day before. Well, some days there are more work, other days less. Some days I hurt here or there, other days not. Some days I have the cold, some days it snows ... but that's just dust on the lens. The picture is really the same. I guess I should not complain, for it is a good picture. And I am not easily bored. But it is a change, a long-term change, and I had to choose a day to record it.

Change will come soon enough. Every privilege I now have will be taken away from me, either all at once or piece by piece. My health, my intelligence and stored knowledge, my tools and toys. All is transient, passing, there is nothing to lean to that will not collapse. If I stay alive, I intend to chronicle the changes for as long as I can. I wonder if I will accept it all with the same calmness that I feel now. Having people to talk to, people to laugh with and perhaps cry with (though I cannot recall ever doing that), people who accept you as you are ... it is pretty essential to a human, I would think. Not quite like food and water and shelter, but not all that far behind. If I can let go of my other privileges with as much equanimity, I suppose I should be fine.

If it's a long way to Tipperary, how far then to Nirvana? I hope to die at a ripe old age silently, like a candle burns down. Reminds me of a joke: "I wish to die peacefully in my sleep like my grandfather, not screaming in fear like his passengers." Actually I'd like to be awake and conscious, just in case death is interesting. But all the fear and resentment probably won't help. I got to work on that now. The more I let go of now, the less to say goodbye to later.

It's like paying your bills before they are due. You have to pay them sooner or later anyway, and if you are rich enough to do it now, you will have less to pay later. (And yes, I do that too.)

I don't really mean that I should stop living while I live. Life is short enough as is. But when the doors eventually close, one by one, I won't hammer on them and scream and beg for them to open. I hope.