Life is a highly contagious, sexually transmitted, incurable, always fatal disease. Whoever coined this clever quote seems to be flaunting the biology as much as lamenting mortality. King Solomon addressed it at length in his book, Ecclesiastes. Peel away the humor and you are left with, “Life’s a bitch and then you die.” In any case the underlying message comes through, “Life is short, eat dessert first.” On the other hand there are so many inspirational (Life) quotes from popular heroes and wise old-souls that you can’t disregard their bias either. I think it safe to say, “Life is good. . . except for when it isn’t.”
It is no secret that I use favorite quotes to bridge gaps in This Life’s unraveling the same way Christians fall back on scripture verses. You don’t need persuasion; it works like a booster shot, a second coat of paint. Mark Twain said the ideal life would be comprised of “. . . good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience.” Translated, I take that to mean, “Keep good company, forgive your own foolishness and move on.” More quotes might be fun to roll around but I think I’ve made the point. I rely on many 2nd coats of Twain-paint (quotes). God must have been modeling Mark Twain when he created himself.
It is no secret either that I gravitate to questions and observations about the human condition. Using old age as an excuse I return to dig in the same old holes I have been crawling back out of for the past forty years. As much as I would enjoy the comforts of tradition and popular culture, it would be no better than teasing a hungry lumberjack with the scent of fresh bread. I keep asking the insoluble question: Why are we here? Ask any mainstream person and I would expect to hear reference to supernatural power or human resilience, to the power of love or evolution, maybe even the pursuit of happiness. The only story I trust enough to sleep with is this: Life doesn’t need a reason. Life is its own reason, it longs for itself, begets new life. We (people) are the conveyance (mechanism) the path it takes. That is our purpose, why we are here. We are one of many means to an end but not the end itself. That is a bitter pill to swallow if you’ve been weaned on religious hyperbole or human rhetoric. But I would rather be disappointed with the truth and make the best of it. Dwelling on Glory-bound expectations in Life’s autumn season would be dreadful if Glory be the myth and the fact be wet, moldy leaves composting in a heap.
Helen Keller said, “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.” She saw better without eyes than most sighted people. Eat dessert first, life is short. Kurt Vonnegut said, “I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can’t see from the center.” Talk is cheap; who goes to the edge and ‘Self defeating’ in the pursuit of ‘Daring’? I may lack the courage and the perceptive acuity that my heroes display but they left foot prints and stacked stones to show me the way. I can’t really say why I am here but moving my feet in the dark seems preferable to fermenting at the bottom of a familiar hole.
It is no secret that I use favorite quotes to bridge gaps in This Life’s unraveling the same way Christians fall back on scripture verses. You don’t need persuasion; it works like a booster shot, a second coat of paint. Mark Twain said the ideal life would be comprised of “. . . good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience.” Translated, I take that to mean, “Keep good company, forgive your own foolishness and move on.” More quotes might be fun to roll around but I think I’ve made the point. I rely on many 2nd coats of Twain-paint (quotes). God must have been modeling Mark Twain when he created himself.
It is no secret either that I gravitate to questions and observations about the human condition. Using old age as an excuse I return to dig in the same old holes I have been crawling back out of for the past forty years. As much as I would enjoy the comforts of tradition and popular culture, it would be no better than teasing a hungry lumberjack with the scent of fresh bread. I keep asking the insoluble question: Why are we here? Ask any mainstream person and I would expect to hear reference to supernatural power or human resilience, to the power of love or evolution, maybe even the pursuit of happiness. The only story I trust enough to sleep with is this: Life doesn’t need a reason. Life is its own reason, it longs for itself, begets new life. We (people) are the conveyance (mechanism) the path it takes. That is our purpose, why we are here. We are one of many means to an end but not the end itself. That is a bitter pill to swallow if you’ve been weaned on religious hyperbole or human rhetoric. But I would rather be disappointed with the truth and make the best of it. Dwelling on Glory-bound expectations in Life’s autumn season would be dreadful if Glory be the myth and the fact be wet, moldy leaves composting in a heap.
Helen Keller said, “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.” She saw better without eyes than most sighted people. Eat dessert first, life is short. Kurt Vonnegut said, “I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can’t see from the center.” Talk is cheap; who goes to the edge and ‘Self defeating’ in the pursuit of ‘Daring’? I may lack the courage and the perceptive acuity that my heroes display but they left foot prints and stacked stones to show me the way. I can’t really say why I am here but moving my feet in the dark seems preferable to fermenting at the bottom of a familiar hole.
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