Aging

 As I continue to age, I also continue to wonder just what my life is all about. Indeed, I even wonder what Life itself is all about.  I am now at an age at which none of my family achieved or exceeded this age.  I sit outside and observe the trees and the sky and ask, WHY?  Occasionally, I am near one of my several great grandkids. And I look at them, and ask, so why are you here and what can this world expect of you?

But why should this world expect anything from them, or indeed, why would the world even be aware of them?  Yes, I know, we have humans who the world knows and asks questions of them. Our elected government for example. Yes, we have this dude called Donald Trump. He will soon die, but he might actually destroy much of what is left of this Earth. Or he might just go to bed one night and then fail to awaken the next morning. He is also at that age,

But why are we all here? And yes, I understand that, once you are here, it is better if you show kindness to other humans, and also that not all humans do. I mean, we have Adolph Hitler, and Bibi Netanyahu, and Donald Trump. But we also had FDR, and JFK and so many women who act as angels.  But does it matter that we have women who act as angels towards the little ones they produce? Well, yes it does matter. Why? Well, because living in a world without angelic women is much less pleasant than it might be.

I mean, everyone wakes up in the morning, and opens his eyes. That’s true for almost everyone who isn’t blind. But then, the day treats every individual differently, and that treatment mostly depends on the humans around them.

But however each human is treated determines how they view LIFE. Whether they spend part of that time looking at a butterfly scampering on a hibiscus flower, and then smiling, or they wonder whether they will get any food that day matters a lot.  I rather imagine that the little ones who may or may not get any food that day think of life and this world very differently from the little ones who are smiling at butterflies and awaiting a call from their angelic human parent calling them to breakfast.

In both cases, perhaps, when those littles ones age and are now 80, or 90 (or 100?) they may well look out the window and ask, “well what has this Life thing all been about”? Cuz the answer to that question is not obvious.  Is Life about looking at the sky and smiling at its color?  And what do folks think about when they ask, “Why am I here”? Does it matter whether they were raised by angels or by devils? Does it matter whether they ever seek to answer that question about Life – why are we all here?

LIFE . . . this is a very odd condition. I mean, some of us are termites, and when I step on a termite, what happens? Does that creature “stop thinking”? Was it thinking before I stepped on it. Or what about that squirrel wandering up my tree? Does he ask questions about his life, like “Why am I here?” And if he does, is there a squirrel up there somewhere overseeing his daily activities? No? You mean, squirrels, or termites don’t have overseers up there in the sky somewhere?  No?? How come?

Oh well, I guess, tonite, I will simple pour myself a nice glass of wine, and stop thinking, as I turn on the TV, which is my way of stopping thinking. Yeah. And then I will go back to my nice glass of wine and stop asking stupid questions (well maybe they’re not stupid, but, since there are never any answers, they are the equivalent).

So, Nite Nite folks.  Think on . . . or Not. You're Human. You don't actually have to think.