The golden globe peaks its head above the horizon, and Methuselah smiles. Sunrise–he has won again. “Ahh,” he thinks, as he dribbles that first cup of coffee, “life is grand.” He’s also happy for another reason: Tomorrow is his birthday; he’s turning six-hundred-and-fifty-two “years young!” He’s proud, too, for except for the fact that he’s had to purée his meals since his early 600’s, when his last tooth fell out, he’s in excellent health. He could easily pass for five hundred. All of his friends are invited to the party–oh, wait, they’ve all passed; so he’ll be celebrating alone. “Oh, well,” he thinks, “more cake for me.” His eighth wife (“hmm, now what was her name?” he thinks) would have been happy to bake it for him. Methuselah’s also proud that he’s still active. Every morning, he leans forward and attempts to do one “I-can-still-touch-my-toes.” Trouble is, he lost spincter control (in that region), about a hundred years ago; so every time he bends over, well, let’s just say it gets windy.
In truth, our bodies can live to a ripe old age, and we can be healthy, too; despite the picture painted by modern medicine. The greatest error of our human ways occurs when we mistakenly assume our body–the costume–as being our identity. Thus, we naturally fear its “end” because we believe that such equates to the end of me. We are not now–nor were we ever–the body-mind. We are the light that shines through it–the silent witness (Awareness) that has watched as we apparently lived all of our personal shenanigans. Edgar Allen Poe was not merely being poetic when he referred to our lives as A dream within a dream; he was stating fact.
Our misguided fear related to the demise of our body can lead us in many wrong directions. It can lead us to methodically count our vitamins one-by-one every day, and spring in fear if we have missed one; it can lead us to mistake a long life for a good life; it can lead us to deny ourselves decent pleausres that could have added immeasurable joy to our days; it can lead us to postpone plans for the perfect day–that imaginary day that only exists on the horizon of our mind.
Instead of focusing on our little “i,” (the one experiencing tremendous fear during this current period in world history), let’s rally together and joyously celebrate our shared humanity. When we know our true Self, we realize that there is nothing to fear. We can shift our self-centered attention from our conceptual self and help Methuselah–or someone else–celebrate their life. I’m sure Methuselah would be happy if we helped him celebrate his birthday. It is by shifting our focus from the me, me, me that’s afraid of dying, that we truly live. Maybe I could arrange to have dentures made for Methuselah. What can you bring?
Dare to dream (and discover your true Self).
With heartfelt regards,
Copyright © – 2020–R. Arthur Russell