be you, not busy
Scientists are about to discover which existential terror awaits us: "Either we are a part of a slowly dying reality or a blip in an unfathomable eternity," explains the writer Corey S Powell. Think about this. An expanding universe that will tear us apart, particles disappearing in emptiness. Or cyclical reversal, matter collapsing into itself.
But there is also the death of Kobe Bryant, his daughter, Gianna, seven others. Or lesser known: The death of Nell Gifford, 48, in Britain in December, as shocking. (Around 2000, the world's cynicism rising, Gifford began a circus. To reawaken our capacity for wonder, dreams. No sad animals or humans, but wild creativity, possibility, beauty.) Two beings who in being rebelliously themselves, unique, inspired: Great success. Magical beauty.
The terror: To know death will happen to you, a loved one, me. Potential, humanness, gone.
Tim Kreider's essay, Lazy: A Manifesto, made me reflect. Because we are all ridiculously busy. Forgetting death. “Busyness serves as a kind of existential reassurance, a hedge against emptiness: obviously your life cannot possibly be silly or trivial or meaningless if you are so busy, completely booked, in demand every hour of the day," writes Kreider. "All this noise and rush and stress seem contrived to drown out or cover up some fear at the center of ourselves.”
The center of ourselves. What's there. We stumble along. Afraid to keep company with our own breath. Nothing in an empty universe. Yet also everything, mystery, love. This reality of body, blood. Yet also this sensing wider. The Stoics speak of amor fati. Love for what is. Unreliability, impermanence. Longing, aliveness.
Time to wake up then. Not to waiting for a shock. Be ourselves. Without worry about what others think. To be with the still, noisy center of myself unabashedly. Really! Why not be me. And you be you. Not proud, not so important, but real. Real only because I care. Human pain, vast beauty. Meaning aplenty. Why so? Because I am suddenly free to make a difference.
Busyness is not a necessary condition of life. It’s a choice. Easier to live with than death. Being me, choosing aliveness is the harder responsibility. The only meaning I can give it is to care. Nothing to lose.
credit: mohamed nohassi | unsplash
How will you opt for being you this week? What does your inner rebel want you to express? One small thing!
Will you be alone with the company of your own breath this week, even if for a few minutes only? Will you look up at the stars in this Universe?
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