I have this interminable preoccupation with the measure of things. I am driven by an inexplicable necessity to explain what has happened. Mine hasn’t the dignity of the historic absorption; rather, my urges are motivated by the more vulgar assessment of purpose and the identification of tendencies as opposed to actual events and other material hardware. Lest you consider this a trifling enquiry I must interject that the opposite pole of such scrutiny is that related to pure imagination, exotic scientific and psychological analysis, Star Wars and similar movies from Hollywood, religion and the various vehicles advanced to create life and enable reincarnation. I presume you will agree that confining oneself to the more introspective boundaries of personal thought is sufficient insight into the “hereafter“. The truth is that no one knows what is to come and therefore restricting literary rumination to current circumstances is perhaps not entirely unfounded.
As a matter of discarding useless ideas, I also wish to state that because there is absolutely no way to prove whatever one may envision about the future, there is no basis for its legitimacy. For that reason alone – quite apart from anything reassuring one may say about unbridled speculation – I am content to limit my scope of exploration to what is at hand. There is at least no threat of hearsay!
There is no doubt in my mind that as one ages the periphery of life is less apparent and in any event less compelling. I view this accommodation as welcome! For one thing it insinuates me with the entitlement to caustic expression! I don’t mean verbal or physical mischief; rather it affords me the authenticity to revoke or invoke as the case may be! Part of the rapture is that it also enables me to regard my inner preferences less critically. Again there is no nefarious or lascivious design, merely the natural reaction of oneself to the surrounding Universe.
The process of analysis includes what are at times competing features. It would be laughable if one were to suggest that there are not inalterable patterns for living. In the end the only conclusion about the meaning of life is that one must make one’s own. The inner appetite for self-expression is something that percolates very early in one’s life. It is an undeniable persuasion. I consider unfortunate that so many of us require as long as we do to confront and adopt our private ambitions, speculations and adorations. Even extending this liberalism to the material world is for some a success. Whatever it takes to get there, so much the better! Most of us will however succumb to fleeting moments of idle dreaming. Characterizing food, air, shelter and water as the only prerequisites of life is naturally an error. What exceeds beyond those boundaries is pretty much up to you.