I’ve had a great life. I was there for the good bands, even went to Woodstock. I’ve visited four continents- lived on two. I watched the moon landing, the information age exploded, the Berlin Wall fell… the list goes on.
I’ve been rich, I’ve been poor. I have loved, I have lost (insert Sinatra soundtrack, “… up and down and over and out, but I know one thing.”). But I don’t know one thing… not… one… thing.
I don’t even know if the chair I am sitting on right now in is real because Max Planck said that reality wasn’t real in 1918 and they gave him the Nobel Prize in Physics for it.
But here is what I think:
*I think it’s too easy to make the wrong turn (if there is a wrong turn to be made).
*It’s just as easy to make the right one (If there is, in fact, a right one).
*People are crazy, including me.
Today I got in trouble for wishing someone a Happy Birthday. No one was supposed to know. I knew. Now people want to know how I knew, when I knew it and who told me. Do I reveal my source? Do I apologize for knowing? Do I say that this is much ado about something stupid?
Last month I poured my heart out to someone, divulged deep secrets, even cried. She recorded it on her phone then shared it with others. I feel hurt by this but do I have the right to be angry? I don’t know why she did it. If I knew why, would I understand? I think she had a reason, but maybe not. It’s so easy to be hurt by someone turning either right or left.
And in a world full of Nine Elevens and Donald Trump should I really be sweating that someone heard my secrets? Is it always the small things that build a life and the large ones that build the world, or can one small slight turn into a Third Reich? I don’t know.
I’ve laughed at disasters, cried with delights; I’ve felt deep depressions and luminous joys. I’ve been to churches, sat with Gurus, communed with nature on mountain tops; did any of this make me wiser? I still get in trouble for knowing about birthdays and I trust the wrong friends.
Today I took a walk in the woods with my dog. My dog is sure of one thing, that she owns all forests. She knows that every other dog she sees is infringing on her property yet the minute they are out of sight… out of her reality set… they no longer exist. They have become reduced to a non-threatening odor on the side of a bush. I may have learned more from my dog today that in my sixty something years. You don’t have to carry the trespassers with you.
If my dog can live in the moment then so can I. If the other dogs no longer exist then neither do the bitches. If she doesn’t like the smell she moves on. I can do that.
I’ve heard it said that “What other people think of you is none of your business”. I think that what others do (or don’t) should not affect my sense of self. Maybe I don’t need their morality to match mine or for others to act in a certain way to make me feel better.
I get to choose how I feel about everything and I don’t even need an apology.
So this is my story, the birthday was supposed to be such a fabulous surprise that not even God was supposed to know about it AND my friend hit record by mistake then a group of her friends were so moved by my pain that they were altruistically compelled to listen to every single word. They are still crying.
I mean, if reality doesn’t exist then why bother with it? Let’s just make it up as we go.