Living on the Edge

I've been living on the edge these past two years - or is it ten? - never really knowing where I'm going with this 'life' thing. It was so easy back in the day to be just living and breathing and working and doing the things I needed to do, which included participating in all the activities of a busy family of six, attending all the conferences and meetings and campouts and concerts and events and games ad infinitum, the deluge of time-consuming but relatively rewarding things that we as humans do when in society with our mates and offspring and peers and neighbors and occasional acquaintances.

It's difficult to know what 'living' means anymore outside the reference of the biological processes which continue on their maddeningly unstoppable process of turning what is left of my body into the constituent molecules from which it sprang. Every day brings a reminder of the gradual decline of the system in which my soul resides. Eyesight fades, teeth decay, neurons fail to fire, muscles atrophy, joints grind and ache in their attempt to immobilize the body.

That unhappy situation is due not only to the current malaise of a world enveloped in a shroud of pandemic disease, but also to the gnawing realization that we, in the course of this life, have accomplished nothing on the scale to which we once aspired. We have done great deeds, we have delivered product to our customers, we have earned our daily bread by the sweat of our brow, we have borne forth our progeny and sent them along their own path to an end we cannot predict; yet our deeds are neither remarkable nor memorable, our products have been obsoleted with time, our daily bread has kept us alive but unsatisfied, and our progeny have moved on to live in a world beyond our comprehension. When we take a moment to look back on our days, it is as it always was:

“Meaningless! Meaningless!”
    says the Teacher.
“Utterly meaningless!
    Everything is meaningless.”

It was nearly ten years ago when I was awoken from a dream to find that I was, in fact, only dreaming; and that my hours were being wasted doing meaningless tasks which held no particular meaning for me. My work had no purpose that could be ascertained; there was no emotional connection or contentment to the days that were being spent in the office. I craved something more substantial, more meaning.

So I moved on to another job with hope in my heart and anxious anticipation in my head.

Until that job, too, proved meaningless.

And so on, and so on.

Unfortunately, to summarize a long and woeful tale, all those ventures proved to be nearly complete disasters (on multiple fronts). And ever since, my outlook on life has gradually turned from timid hopefulness to that state of mind described by Thoreau in Walden:

"The mass of men lead quiet lives of desperation." 

And it is not only in the area of commerce or industry have our dreams and ambitions been frustrated. In religion, too, our souls have been downcast by the reality that we live in a world of humans who show little regard for us when we do not fit into their mold or clique or tribe or whatever other dividing line is used to mark the boundary between "us" and "everyone else". After many years, we left our little congregation, receiving very little (if any) notice from anyone, not even those delegated to watch over the flock; the absence of any reaction was most disheartening - we thought we mattered to someone. And then the pandemic broke upon the unexpecting world, and we were all forced to live indoors for a time, and throughout that enforced isolation, we received even less attention. When the fog finally began to lift, our hearts were momentarily uplifted in anticipation of a forthcoming Christian camaraderie; but were then cast down again by the disclosure that selfishness and disregard runs deep in the hearts of men, especially when 'freedom' is regarded with higher regard than the safety of others.

And then the surge washed over us all, and our souls were smothered again.

Now we go from day to day in a state of uneasy depression, wondering when and if the world will ever return to a state of normalcy; and when it does, what will our new normal become? How shall we live given the things that have happened to us, the changes in our attitudes and dreams and ambitions and understandings?

We have our little family, the ones we hold close and dear; and we have friends who have doggedly pursued us with a tenacity that is both admirable and unsettling. We have moments of joy, and moments of uncertainty. And we wait for the new dawn.

And pray that its light will dispel the darkness.