ON
THE EDGE OF ETERNITY
Sometimes,
it only takes a single sentence to change the way I see life.
Recently,
I was whining to a friend that I was, once again, on Square One of a brand new
game board. She looked at me with
complete lack surprise and said, “All days are like that.”
She
was just stating the obvious. But it was
not obvious to me.
My
childhood keepers taught me that if I worked really hard and obeyed all the
rules, I would be successful and would be rewarded accordingly. So I set out to work hard and discover what
the rules were. I had absolute faith
that one day, after I had laboured mightily and mastered all the rules, I would
play a flawless game. Finally, I would be grown up, and know exactly what to do
in every circumstance. Life would be gloriously domesticated. No bumps, bruises, or bug bites.
My
lack of progress convinced me that I was stupid and lazy. I overworked everything, and avoided
challenges that I was not confident of conquering. Ultimately, I gave up on myself and decided
that serving other, more deserving people was the only way I could justify my
existence. I conceived a romantic
scenario about achieving immortality by dissolving myself in others.
One
day, I read a sentence that punctured my balloon. “If I am here to serve others, what are
others here for?” I suspect that this
was supposed to be a joke, but it hit me hard.
If serving is such a privilege, and it is more blessed to give than to
receive, shouldn’t everyone have a chance to do it? Isn’t it actually a kind of exploitation to
do things for people just so I can feel better about myself?
I
gradually started asking questions like “What do I really want?” “Does this
really work?” and “Is this in the best interest of all concerned?”
I
also noticed that the rules were not as durable and universal as I
imagined. A passionate young clergyperson
informed me that rules cease to be valid when they no longer serve the people
for whom they were made. I was unable to
integrate that thought into my world view, but it left a dent in my delusions.
When
my mother died the day after my 71st birthday, I no longer had
anyone’s needs to juggle but my own. The
questions that had been brewing in the back of my mind migrated to front and
centre. Welcome future shock.
The
rules are not what they were. Nothing is
certain but uncertainty. I can’t control
anything that is worth controlling.
Every day is a leap of faith into the unknown.
Scary
stuff. But it is also an adventure.
Every
day, I am standing on square one of a new game board. My mission, should I decide to accept it, is
to discover what works for me today, and what doesn’t.
Let
the game begin. I'm not ready, but nobody ever really is.