When I look in the mirror in the morning, I appear the same as I did the previous morning. I’m not, of course. I remember what I saw in the mirror ten years ago, and twenty years ago. I look different now, and the changes didn’t happen overnight. It was a constant process. It is a continuing process.
It’s a little sobering to think that every night when I go to bed, I look older than I did when I got up. Change has been happening since the instant of my conception, and it won’t stop until I’m dead and come to dust. The same applies to every single one of us.
And it isn’t just a matter of physical appearance; it’s everything. Our attitudes, opinions and perceptions change constantly. It’s usually a slow process, and most of the changes are imperceptible until we look back to who we were at some point in our own history.
One of the biggest changes is in our overview of the thing we call ‘my life.’ We look back to our young days, when we saw life as an endless future replete with so-far unrealised events and experiences. And then we realise that we are looking at it from nearer the other end, and most of that future has been spent. All those days, weeks, months and years are now history - dead and petrified in memory and two dimensional images on a piece of paper or a video tape. Our perception of time changes, and what seemed endless now looks not only finite, but very short. The things we thought important in our teen years seem unimportant now, because they were so short-lived and very few of them can be taken with us when we go.
It would be easy to see all this in a negative way, but I don’t. If life is in a constant state of flux, then every new second brings with it a new me. Life at the deepest level isn’t merely the road to dusty death, but a constant process of renewal. And when my little life is rounded with a sleep, I believe the process will continue at that deepest level, and the experiences of my history will continue to inform what is, in reality, a truly endless future.
Whether or not the concept of past and future has any basis in ultimate reality is maybe a little beyond the parameters of this post. Best leave that one to Einstein and the more advanced mystics.
7 comments:
It's all the dance of Maya...
Wow, I have to say, this is by far my favourite post from you! I've been thinking the same thing these past few months. It scares me, somehow, that everything is changing, and that every minute passed is a minute gone. That scares me.
But I agree. Change is a slow, constant process. In one day you think that you haven't changed much, if at all, but when you add up all the days, it's there- the whole never-ending history of your 'change'- physical, emotional, mental...
Susan: I daresay you're right. I googled Dance of Maya, and I'm still an ignorant slob. You intrigue me, Susan. We should meet.
Lucy: Good heavens. I thought this would be of sub-zero interest to a 16-year-old. I read this right after posting a reply to your comment about 'greatness.' Don't move TOO fast, will you. Don't forget 'What the hell!' Mindless fun is such an important component of life.
Your post reminds me of the Greek philosopher saying "You can never step into the same river twice." Personally, I still grieve for the past. I know that there are many benefits to aging, that's not the issue. For me, it's the wonder of the world that I seemed to have back then and I didn't groan and moan because of my back and knees. Yet, I'm much more conscious and wise than I was. Your post inspires me. Thank you Jeff.
Hello and welcome, Wendy. I agree with the physical stuff. I find it difficult to accept that I can't do some of the things I used to do when I was a keen hill walker and rugby player. I'm still struggling to change my way of living so as to accomodate those changes that are happening anyway. But I've found that as I've slowed down a bit, my wonder in the world has actually increased. I see things I never did before.
How true! Though unlike you I do tend to see aging in a negative way, especially when you phrase looking back on one's life as "dead and petrified in memory and two dimensional images on a piece of paper..." I had to laugh. Great piece – as were your other recent ones. It's refreshing to know other people also feel insecure and arrogant from time to time when they're (probably) not :-) I really have a hard time keeping up with your blog these days, but will visit again soon!
That's OK, Della. I have a hard time keeping up with it, too. Haven't read your new one fully yet, either. But I will. Thanks for beating me to the line.
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