Project Transcendence: Getting "There" Before Getting Too Old to Go Anywhere Else
Never has the concept of lost time taken as much knowing urgency in my life than as it has now. I'm still basically a laid back temporally displaced hippie who likes improvising, flying by the the seat of my pants. But even I am beginning to feel the Universe tugging at me, as I'm sure it's been doing for decades, urging me to go forward before my my time is utterly spent. It is Krynn's River of Time, beating on me, flowing around me, travelling past me, threatening to erode my house of sand.
Years of bad posture has given me scoliosis-- a misalignment of the spine common to me and to Jonathan Frakes. (Notice the way William Riker sits in any of his chairs. I sit the exact same way.) Unsupervised Tai Chi and years of physical abuse have bequeathed to me bad knees: I'll not be able to run or kick as fast and as hard as I used to, for a good long while. This body is host to a multitude of mysterious pains and symptoms strongly associated with no particular disease.
To this day I am still not rich. And it dawns on me that money is a good way to comfort yourself when you're getting ricketty. Even if you can't spend it to save your life, it makes good tinder.
And I'm getting ricketty. And I'm feeling it. Not in some abstract socratic or zennist way. While I can bring myself to laugh at my state, I am not so elevated as to feel that way all the time. I've spent most of my youth watching and listening to old men and women, immersing myself in really old songs-- the works-- all in preparation for being old. Now it's at my doorstep. I am genuinely afraid.
30 isn't over the hill, no matter what anyone says (true for men and women). Only, I wish I'd made better preparations for the time society would consider me "over the hill." Getting employed and saving up early would have made my life easier; I'm still hippie enough to say that my mistakes were all necessary for making me who I am now. It's just that knowing I coulda "cut corners" with a little conformity then is a b!tch.
What all of this boils down to is this:
Can I afford not to chase after my dreams now, when the next few decades are sure to bring with them greater portions of the vulnerabilities that human minds and bodies are heir to? Someone --namely me-- should have asked this of himself very seriously when he was a lot younger. Only, it's so hard to visualize yourself as a being without limits, especially if you were a boy too intelligent, too trusting for his age (7 years) and his own good. There was so much you wanted to accomplish and just. too. many. limits. set. by. well-intentioned. idiots. --bullies, parents, bosses, lovers-- as to what you could do and what you had a right to.* I grew up believing all their ...bullsh!t.
I want my life to mean something. I want to reshape the world or my small part of it with my own two hands before they get too arthritic to do anything useful. I'm getting there, I know. It galls that I still have a ways to go and still a vague idea as to where that should be.
*One of my friends does not know how tightly she and a few others are woven into Project Transcendence. This is an issue I should address in another, more suitable entry.