Tonight, or rather, at silly o’clock this morning, I feel the need to write, to explore myself and try to make sense of the last two or three days; writing helps me with this, well usually it does!
Today, or rather, as it’s silly o’clock, yesterday, was shite, undoubtedly one of the worst days of my life and, considering I’ve come through cancer and chemo that’s saying quite a bit, although there have been other very bad times in my life.
As I tried to work it all through in my mind before opening up my laptop it felt as though what I wanted to say was that I felt the universe was once more mocking me. That’s a very egotistical stance to take really isn’t it? Little me. Just one insignificant coming together of flesh, blood, bacteria and chemicals spinning through the void with billions of others on an insignificant planet far from the center of the galaxy let alone the universe. Why on earth (if you’ll pardon the unintentional pun) should the universe be remotely interested in me? It isn’t really, and I know that, but then most of us laugh at the person who slips on the banana skin without having the remotest connection with that person or interest in their life; when I say I feel the universe is mocking me it is that kind of relationship and not one of personal interest in me. In trying to work my way through this I wondered what I meant by “the universe”, and I couldn’t really answer my own question about my own thought. I don’t mean the cosmic, physical universe. I don’t mean some universal entity, godlike or otherwise. I don’t really know just what I mean which is really a bit scary as it is my own thought!
I remember as a teenager being invited to the party of a teenage girl, Lynda, who was a neighbour. There were a group of us who mostly knew each other. The girls wanted to play a game called scissors where the players said either “open” or “crossed”. The girls knew how to play but we boys didn’t, we could have explained the off-side rule but couldn’t understand what the rules of this particular game were and the longer the game went on the more frustrated we became. Occasionally we guessed correctly but knew that we’d guessed so it was no help at all when our next turn came around. The more frustrated we became, the more the girls giggled in delight and showed that they relished their superior knowledge. Right now, at silly o’clock that’s how I feel about the rules of life; every time I think I have worked them out and can rely on that “knowledge” to look ahead, they seem to change and I just can’t get my head around them. If there has been a pattern in my life it seems to have been this, that every time I start to make plans in the expectation of continuity they get blown out of the water by “the universe”. OK, maybe it’s not the universe, maybe it’s just me screwing things up when I really want them to go well; it’s a possibility which has to be acknowledged.
Was it worth coming through cancer to feel as I do now? Good question! I know human life is precious, but, the way I feel right now I really do wonder. Please don’t get the idea that I feel suicidal, I don’t and I won’t, but I really do wonder whether it was worth everything that it cost me and those whose love, particularly that of my wife, got me through it.
Does any of this make sense? I don’t know. Has it helped me to get my thoughts together in this way? Maybe. Maybe not.
The rules for the game at Lynda’s party? Really simple. If you sit with your ankles crossed, you say “crossed”. If you sit with your ankles uncrossed you say “open”. If only the rules of life were as easy!