Talking about death, and the problems I have with death, the truth is: I want more time. Lots of time. Much more than the 70, 80, 90 years, or whatever you’re getting these days- if you’re lucky!
It’s simple really: I lack time. I need big quantities of additional time, before I could even consider the possibility of death.
Who wouldn’t? It totally eludes me how there seems to be quite a number of people who don’t. I mean, I still haven’t learned to play the piano, which I’ve longed to do since I was a child- so far I can’t even read notes!
I’m fond of snow- the world seeming intensely fresh while covered in it, but I’ve never been to the North Pole, or anywhere near the Arctic. The Arctic Ocean is some 4000 meters deep, but you can walk on it… That must be mind-blowing!
I’ve visited China only once, briefly. I would love going back and staying there for a while… I could go on and on and on. The planet is huge, and full of miracles and wonders!
I also like languages; a new language gives you a free ride on an entirely different culture. You get to know people with different ideas, thoughts, manners. You realize how small your own world is.
I don’t speak Arabic, nor Russian, Spanish – still there are these huge areas in the world where they do. I did start with Arabic once, after 9/11. I realized how little I knew about the Middle East, nor did I get it why a lot of Arabs seemed to be quite angry.
It’s a beautiful language, Arabic, very rich, and it has great poets. Yet I quit after some years. Too much homework, too little time.
What about books? There are too many writers, too many books I still want to read! Take Proust. The story of finding time lost: ‘À la Recherche du Temps Perdu‘. Seven books, 1.5 million words… That’s a lot of words for bedtime reading!
And I haven’t mentioned friends yet. Nor family. Too often victims of a life too short. Or how to start on True Love…! Ethereal and elusive most of the time.
Of course, it’s not what this is about. If I would be really honest, I would have to admit that all I want is to accomplish something meaningful in life; something worth doing. More than anything else. Unfortunately, I haven’t found that one thing yet…
At the same time, to envision my life being filled with shopping and holidays and doing the laundry seems quite empty- apart from earning a living. Besides, I don’t like holidays. I’m neither crazy about the laundry, nor shopping- however important. And to be just me for the rest of my days, swimming in a sea of self..? No! There must be more to life. Much more.
I told you: all I need is time. More time.
Cahen de Martin Claire 01-03-2017 @ 04:42
Il est urgent de relire Baudelaire : “La chair est triste et j’ai lu tous les livres”. Mais surtout Sénèque avec son traité sur la Brièveté de la vie.