Frayed Nerves

Starting over. The thought of beginning a new chapter in one’s life prompts feelings of both excitement and fear. The idea simultaneously is inviting and daunting. But starting over is more than beginning a new chapter. Starting over erases old obstacles—and old accomplishments. Starting over rebuilds a life on an old foundation; maybe even building a new foundation on which to construct a new life. Discarding old chapter outlines to serve as guides. Weaving new fabric with fresh thread. All sorts of challenging metaphors apply. A young person with only a few years invested in building his life probably finds starting over challenging but doable. Middle age, arguably the time of life in which starting over is more commonly attempted, requires a person to abandon more of her investment in time and energy in order to try to start over. When one who has spent even more time—nearly a lifetime—writing the chapters of his life (or allowing the chapters to be written), starting over becomes considerably more difficult; circumstances may make it impossible, or almost so. Abundant and momentous challenges to beginning anew may dull whatever appeal starting over has: where to live; how to make new friends; who will join in the renewal; new doctors and other healthcare concerns; and on and on. And perhaps the most significant challenge of all: are the reasons to start over sufficient to merit the stresses and strains and loss of what is to be replaced? The reasons for starting over probably are as numerous as the people who try; certainly as numerous as the people who succeed. The core issue, of course, is whether starting over is primarily intended to change the life that heretofore has been lived or the person who has lived it? I think about this quite a lot. I never reach any steadfast conclusions. Sometimes, though, I think starting over becomes impossible at some point in a person’s life. When that point is reached, though, I think differs from person to person. And learning when that point has been reached requires a person to try, and fail, to start over. I have not stopped pondering these ideas; more to come, I suspect.

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Last night was quite enjoyable. Good food, good conversation, and lots of laughs. Casual. Comfortable. The kind of evening that is both stimulating and relaxing.

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My skepticism about the validity of  information from the internet grows with every passing day. Even sources I once I thought I could rely on for unbiased accuracy increasingly disappoint me with obvious slant and more and more frequent misinformation. Far right and far left so-called facts spread like wildfire, fueled by what seem to me intentional lies distributed by people and organizations who do not trust the truth to support their positions…so they manufacture facts to suit them. Fact-checking is becoming more and more difficult because reliable information sources are becoming harder and hard to find. I often feel it necessary to preface anything I pass along from the internet with something to the effect that “if it is true, and I would not stake my life that it is…” or “I cannot vouch for its accuracy (or its inaccuracy), but …” But I have learned that my cautions are not necessarily heard. All I can do, I think, is to express philosophies about how people should behave and how the world should work and not pass judgments on anyone or anything unless I have ALL the facts, which I typically do not. Yet what I think I can do I often fail to do. So I am as guilty as the next person for failing to direct my own thoughts to what is “right.” And  we’re all destined to suffer the same fate; humanity is doomed. We cannot be surprised, can we? We’ve had plenty of time to evolve into decent creatures but we’ve squandered our time on self-serving wars and other such power-grabs. I could go on about that for a week and a half, but I won’t. Not just now, anyway.

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I will drink another little cup of espresso. It may calm my nerves and settle my brain. It may not. Only time will tell.