The Synthesis of Metamorphosis

Synthesis: combination or composition, in particular in Hegelian philosophy the final stage in the process of dialectical reasoning in which a new idea resolves the conflict between thesis and antithesis.

Metamorphosis: a change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one, by natural or supernatural means.

While I have probably mistakenly united two ideas – synthesis and metamorphosis –  what I mean to describe is my absorption of change.  I can’t escape two compelling features of my life:  1) I am constantly tired; and, 2) I recognize that I am on the brink of discovery.

My seeming perpetual fatigue is clearly not a malignancy. I know precisely what it is – I am recovering from years of exhaustion.  Now that I can afford the privilege of listening to my body (though there is nothing particularly rational about the process) I just give in.  The sensation is overwhelming. Better to succumb and afterwards begin afresh.  I am simply burned out after years of getting there.

Abruptly there is now so little that needs doing.  I haven’t any excuse to avoid doing nothing.  There is no reason not to sleep.  My sleep at nights is plagued by two factors:  one, my left shoulder tendons have been damaged in a fall and it annoys me during the night; and, two, I suffer the same insomnia from constant worry which I have suffered all my life.  I am a worry-wart.  Historically I have only surmounted my obsession by keeping myself awake until I practically fell into bed and then passed out for four or five hours.  Now late night television or Netflix movies are inadequate as a vehicle of exhaustion; I need something more compelling than a mere soporific, something more highly developed.

I am determined to comprehend my repeated anxieties and to vanquish them. I continue to have dreams.  Only last night I dreamt I was in a grand, modern hotel, going down long hallways, transitioning from one conference room to another.  There was some urgency about what I was doing and I even began smoking cigarettes again (something I haven’t done since I was 50 years of age and which bothered me even in my dream because I knew it contaminated my life insurance policy). I visited my nieces who were in a tower suite in the hotel and I was intent upon organizing something for them.  The colours were mainly bright silver or white with a hint of pale blue though the corridors of the hotel were burnt orange and darker, the floors covered in Oriental style carpet.

While tiresome abstract worries continue to nip at my heels, it is significant that at this stage of my life I have virtually nothing tangible about which to trouble myself. I have none of the customary worries of life such as business, property management or health issues. Even my family concerns are limited to normal problems dealing with my elderly mother who after all has the benefit of a long and comfortable life.  I admit that I fret about my evolving disposition.  For example I have begun to take a hard look at my personal relationships; I regularly corner myself on what I understand about life; I am teaching myself to live meaningfully without  hedonic palliatives (jewelry, cars, furnishings, art and travel).  These philosophical dalliances aren’t worthy of any particular merit though they succeed to satisfy my curiosity.  If I am to be truthful they put distance between me and the rest of the world.  I need time to discover things on my own without commitment or obligation.

In my present condition I can see that I have an extraordinary opportunity, one which until recently was unimaginable.  I have likened our upcoming 4-month hibernation to a notable travel adventure.  It certainly will be the first of its kind for us. The combination of getting out of business and withdrawing from the municipal election has contributed to my aloofness.  As the former life-lines dissolve the connection with the past floats away.  I am still however in a recuperative stage, still getting off the couch, still dealing with those haunting demons.