The Hardest Thing
I have mentioned a time or two that I am getting old. I can’t figure out how it happened, but I am now 60. People will tell you that age is just a number, but 60 is a significant number. Sure, these same people will tell you that 60 is the new 50. I sometimes think those pundits are in their mid-20s.
At 60, it is clear that there are lots more days behind than in front. I don’t believe I will make it to 120 or 130, do you? The odds of that are slim. How about having my consciousness uploaded to a computer? That is also doubtful. I’ll be here for a bit longer, and then that is that.
I bought an electric head shaver. The white hairs are gone, creating bald spots to match those already there. I also purchased a new electric razor for my face. Blades are not the best choice for someone with doctor-ordered thin blood.
And I have made more concessions to age. I am at the point where my right hip needs to be replaced, and my back hurts almost all the time. I try to limit myself to office work; anything outside has a deleterious impact. Right now, I am suffering through the consequences of working outside last Friday. The pain constantly reminds me that it was a dubious decision. I knew better, but I found myself a victim of circumstance.
I am much more worried about what is going on above my shoulders. I am working hard to fight off the cognitive decline that afflicts humans as we age. Concentration is the main thing, isn’t it? Even athletes in their late 30s fall victim to wandering thoughts that had never been an issue. It seems that this is something fundamental to being human. It is in our nature.
So, what might be the biggest problem I am facing? That is an easy one. I can deal with the pain; that is not a pressing issue. It is something else.
I have several projects I would like to get completed in the next calendar year. Two novels need to be finished, and I want to complete a big academic project. I am currently struggling with an agency in The Republic of South Africa to get the necessary permissions to proceed. I am not optimistic at the moment; a series of computer issues have disrupted contact. I remain steadfast; I have long been fascinated by South Africa and am willing to jump through all the hoops they present.
I also have a technical book related to archaeological fieldwork I would like to finish. I have done lots of work on it, but I need to do more. Same old story, right? Same with the baseball book I have in a special folder on my desktop. There is no reason that it can’t be completed soon.
So, what’s the problem? What is the big issue? It does not only affect older individuals; it is an issue common at all ages. It is one of candor. Have you ever considered that you are not honest with the person staring back at you in the mirror? Is that a terribly difficult thing to do, to be honest with yourself? I think it might be essential and complicated. It might be the hardest thing any of us attempt.
For the first time in my life, that little voice deep inside whispers that I may not get all this stuff done. Perhaps I don’t have the energy and concentration to do it. Maybe it is too much to ask of myself, considering my other responsibilities. Whatever that thing is, my intuition perhaps, that is whispering, I am not listening. I am going to plow ahead and see what happens. I could say I refuse to cower in the face of time’s intentions. Still, I now have intimate knowledge of its capabilities. No fear but healthy respect. I know what it has in its bag of tricks.
Time uncovers all, doesn’t it? It reveals imposters and strains the credible. It doesn’t care, even a little, what we think of it. I am becoming curious how it affects things like intuition, that little voice constantly taking up arms against me. Do those whispers know more than I do? Does that curious entity have knowledge and insight that I lack? How about wisdom? Is it wise and faithful? I have no idea; I’ll keep typing to see what happens.
When I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, I was confident that I could check off everything on my list. No real doubts yet; it is that energy issue that is proving to be a stickler. Do I have enough energy and sufficient brain power left to get it all done? I keep telling myself yes, no problem. I never get an answer from space-time, the universe, or whatever else might want to chime in. Their opinions remain elusive.
Maybe the spirit of Mozart will come through and inspire me. Then again, I didn’t buy a Powerball ticket for the two-billion-dollar drawing. I think that probably disqualifies me from the influence of certain muses. At least, I would think so.
How is this for some unexpected context to my problem? I look around and wonder if we really are living in a simulation. Lots of smart folks think that is a serious possibility. What does it mean for me if we are? Nothing, I would think. What about my consciousness? Is it an emergent quality that brains mysteriously produce, or is it fundamental to the universe? Again, I have no idea, and I am not sure it matters for me and my dilemma. I can continue to consider these unusual questions as I muster up as much courage as possible. I will need it to be honest with that image I see when I brush my teeth and use those new electric shavers.
