Hoarding cash and precious metals is an act of impotent desperation. Neither symbol of worth fulfills the promise of safety. Neither delivers on assurances of survival. Neither possesses intrinsic value. Their significance comprises false hopes, cobbled together with shreds of self-deception—fired by unearned egotism. They represent counterfeit expectations of a future that is neither promised nor necessarily desirable. Even the richest among us eventually die; memories of them fade and disappear into wretched history. And some of the poorest live on, their words and actions overshadowing their poverty and the suffering they endure at the hands of unprincipled upper-class thieves and swindlers. And, then, there is the vast middle; who often feel shame for their longing for riches. But not enough embarrassment to erase their lust for pecuniary gain. In the end, what does it all matter? Very few of us care enough about the world to change it. We simply muddle through, watching from the sidelines as pernicious power-mongers desperately fight to accumulate empty promises made of their wishes and dreams and our futures.
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Today is another consecutive day when my mind scurries unsuccessfully to find something to think about. Something to which my brain is able to devote both observation and analyses. When was the last time I felt sufficiently intelligent to make any sense of experience? Have I ever felt I possessed adequate understanding to interpret the world around me? To attach any plausible meaning to humanity’s circular psychoses that just swirl around what appears to be a drain? Almost a year ago, during one of the many periods when I tend to question life’s meaning or value or purpose or…whatever…I turned to two philosophers whose ideas seem to be at odds with one another. But, in reality, the concepts are not mutually exclusive; they simply present views from different angles.
| 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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My chemo begins anew today, with a reduced dose of only one drug and the elimination of another. My oncologist (and I and others) hope the chemo does not lead to another lengthy hospital stay. Two weeks in the hospital was approximately miserable. I had a PET scan yesterday morning, the narrative results of which were viewable online yesterday afternoon after the physical therapist left, following his weekly visit. The results seem to be a mixed bag; several comments seemed to offer a ray of sunshine (indicating a reduction in size of some cancerous spots), but others indicated new or worsening concerns. I will inquire of my doctor today. Later this afternoon, a home-visit nurse will come by to check my vitals and harangue me about my apparent inability to drink enough water. Ach. I should not complain, yet I do. It gives me a modicum of purpose.
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Mi novia went to Lowe’s while I was having my PET scan yesterday. She ordered a new oven, microwave, and dishwasher. I kick myself for waiting so long to do it. If we had done it when we bought the house about three years ago, I would have had more time to enjoy them. I tend to procrastinate on things that will improve our environment. At least we’re not doing it as a precursor to selling the house. But things change. They always do.
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I ate a burger and fries for lunch yesterday, loading myself up with protein in advance of my visit with the oncologist. That wasn’t the motive, but it seemed like it might have been. I don’t know the difference between motive and desire anymore. What, exactly, is the difference?
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TIme to leave. Ach.
