There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.
~ Washington Irving ~
The unconscious mind expresses grief through memories of events that never occurred—but for which the griever would gratefully pay—with years of his life—to have experienced. Grief has its own prescriptive economy, supported by a currency of tears and regret. Unlike an exchange economy, the economy of grief does not allow for barter. There is nothing to buy or sell or trade; just exquisite memories of a glorious history and longing for an impossible future. Dreams of beloved experiences and missed opportunities are the coin of the realm of grief. There is a vast sea between Irving’s unspoken love and unspeakable love; grief resides in that emotional chasm.
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You’re born, you live for a time, and then you die. Describing one’s lifespan in such simple terms begs the question: what is the point? It would be a stunning surprise to learn that an enormous majority of people have no interest in the question. Whether they are religious or not, most people (I think…) want to believe human life has a point. But ask them to articulate that point and they tend to stumble and mumble…they want to believe there’s a point, but they are not quite sure what it might be. Try as we might, humans largely have been unable to identify and express that point, except through religious assertions laced with contradictions and magical thinking. Or with arguments based on premises completely lacking in logic. Some find it hard to accept the possibility that life—human or otherwise—has no purpose. That life just is. And then, later, it isn’t. But if there is no point to life, why do we consider it sacred? Perhaps because we want to believe we matter. And of course we do…to a limited number of others. Perhaps we consider life sacred because that belief places constraints on most of us; taking a life would be too easy and too common if we did not consider life important. That it has a point. But, really, does it? What matters, I suppose, is not whether it has a point but, rather, whether we believe it does.
| You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.
Albert Camus |
Challenging the meaning of life is the truest expression of the state of being human.
Viktor E. Frankl |
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When does old age begin? Does it coincide with a specific number of years or a specific physical condition? Is one’s mental status relevant to defining the commencement of old age? The beginning of old age probably is contextual—in other words, it depends. In a population in which a large proportion of people live beyond 100 years, old age may start at 85. A population in which the average age is 45, old age may begin at 60. A similarly difficult-to-answer question might be: When does youth end? Is that, too, contextual?
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From early one mourning to late in his life
he wept and remembered pulling a knife
on a defenseless young soldier on the front line.
He stabbed the poor boy and stole all his wine
and blamed the old captain, who only drank gin.
The captain was sentenced to die for his sin,
but the killer recanted, so the captain was spared
by the judge and the killer, who actually cared.
