Thank you, Dear Jane

It was only yesterday
that I was sitting
in a fetal position,
hands folded across the chest,
and the forehead,
trying to reach my knees.

In that position,
I was rocked by invisible hands,
tying to get some traction
on slippery sands
and bring myself
      to stand.

It was only yesterday
that I had wondered,
is this what it feels like
before
      the end?

It was only yesterday
that you were calling
county’s hotline
desperate to find some crutches,
and not let me fall
into the abyss.

You did not want us
      to end,
not yet, not tomorrow,
      not ever,

because,

you had loved me,
loved us being together
loved the simplicity
of sum of our moments
      adding to  more than
what they were,
and because,
you were
a born fighter.

It was all only yesterday,
but it feels so far away
      as we cuddle up
for a movie,
and are thankful for
      normal days.

I wonder,
if this what it feels like
to be born again?

And for all that,
Thank you, Dear Jane.

Let go the thought of the next

Old man
(and that would be me)
enjoy this cup
of amber-brown tea
      that is
nestled in your hand
      on a winter morning
and let go the thought of
      the next cup
that is already brewing
in your mind,
      with the anticipation of enjoying
after this one ends.

That cup of tea
is going to be
      no different
than what already nestles
      in your hands.

Enjoy this kiss
that is already on your lips
and let go the thought of
    the next one
…

      … 

The ailment of existential crisis

 

We all have to die one day, we might as well die with some obscure meaning attached to it — Ryan Gelpke

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

The existential crisis is a condition born from the union of life and death sleeping together in the same bed called the living.

Compelled to coexist, they strive for amicability. Yet, their efforts often culminate in struggle, especially when death seeks to strip life of all significance and meaning, leaving it exposed and trembling in the cold of night.

Nonetheless, they persist in their efforts to remain together and honor each other’s individuality. Even when their elbows occasionally collide, they hold onto the hope that the majority of their remaining time on this Earth can be of mutual respect and peaceful coexistence.

Together they strive to have shared time where empathy and mutual understanding prevail, and compassion is the bridge across their divide.

In their quest for harmonious coexistence, they’ve consulted therapists, delved into self-help books, and explored philosophical texts, seeking to unravel the significance of their ongoing struggles and discover effective solutions.

After a long enough struggle with living succumbing to the moods and vagaries of the tension that exists between them, a solution they have come is to recognize the reality that their personalities are different and the tension between them may not go away.

After enduring a protracted struggle, with living succumbing to the unpredictable shifts and nuances of the tension that binds life and death, they have arrived at a realization: their distinct personalities are there to stay, and the tension between them will remain.

To keep moving forward, they’ve reached a compromise solution that has been effective.

What they have settled down is to let life have a meaning, purpose, goal, and something to look forward to in the mornings. Yet, being perfectly aware that periods of tranquility could be taken over by occasions of death doubting the authenticity of everything life does. They have come to an acceptance that when that happens it would be moments of facing the ailment of existential crisis once again.

Indeed, they acknowledge that equilibrium between always be tenuous and is capable of shifting without a formal announcement.

For now, the arrangement has been working out well.

Ciao.

Taming mortality

 

Why fear death when we can never perceive it — Epictetus

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

Often, I envision a future where I reside in a community for those 55 and older, engaging in activities like playing pickleball. During the game, I am fully immersed, and everything is going well. However, once the game concludes, a gradual sense of futility regarding the activity begins to set in. The mechanics behind this transition is as follows:

After the game is over, a remembrance of my mortality sneaks. This thought brings a cognizance that life ends with death, the point at which the self is annihilated. While I will cease to exist, the party goes on. Remembering this, I feel as though I am enveloped in a cloud of meaninglessness that mortality can bestow upon daily engagements, including playing pickleball.

(Note: In the context of this discussion, ‘playing pickleball’ serves merely as an example and could be replaced with any other activity such as cooking, reading, or watching a movie.)

This vision of the future elicits an unease about the meaninglessness of activities that are occurring in the present. At its core, the reason is the dissonance between the necessity to live and the inevitability of death. This dissonance renders life’s activities seemingly futile and complicates the search for an inherent (and life-sustaining) meaning within them.

This vision of the future further intensifies the sense of existential unease about living, which also gets intertwined with the angst about the remaining days of my fleeting existence on the Earth.

The transition from engaging moments of pickleball to feelings of its futility leads me to wonder if life will follow in the same sequence of events day after day.

After each game of pickleball, when confronted with mortality, will I continue to question its meaning?

Do not misunderstand me. When I am in the midst of a pickleball game, I am completely absorbed. In those moments, there are no thoughts of mortality or the game’s futility. I strive to excel. I find myself getting frustrated with mistakes I make.

On the court, everything is as it should be. It is only afterward that the doubts begin to surface.

I also know that the malady I experience could be worse.

Currently, at least, when I play pickleball, awareness of mortality does not coincide and occupy the same mental space. Therefore, mortality does not prompt me to question the meaning of pickleball while I am engaged in it. A more troubling scenario is conceivable.

It’s possible that while playing pickleball, I become simultaneously aware of mortality, allowing both to coexist. In the midst of the game, this awareness could prompt me to question the purpose of my actions, draining all focus and pleasure from the activity.

Should that to occur, it might lead me into a depressive state, characterized by a lack of motivation to engage in any activity — a far graver situation.

The fact that, while playing pickleball, the awareness of mortality does not consume my thoughts (and remains in the background), and I experience no sense of unease, suggests a way to navigate the tension between living and dying.

The answer for appeasing the life sucking tendency of mortality (no pun intended) may lie in living in the present.

In a way, living in the present disassociates the mind away from the future, and it is in the shadows of the thought of the future where mortality lurks. Living in the present makes life forever.

To quote Ludwig Wittgenstein “Death is not an event in life: we do not live to experience death. If we take eternity to mean not infinite temporal duration but timelessness, then eternal life belongs to those who live in the present. Our life has no end in the way in which our visual field has no limits.”

Living in the present, thus, may be the antidote of the existential crisis born from the tension between living and dying.

Ciao.