Two Ways to Live

There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is…

~ Albert Einstein ~

The lyrics in a song by Peter Mayer, Holy Now, seem to echo Einstein’s perspective, though Mayer’s interpretation is more “religious” in tone. Einstein is said to have claimed to be agnostic. He denied being atheist, and his views of the universe differed from the views held by traditional Christians and Jews as well as other “religious nonbelievers,” which he also called himself. Mayer’s “everything is holy now” is Einstein’s “everything is a miracle,” just phrased differently. Miracles are not magic. They simply are events or ideas that cannot be explained in ways that deliver true understanding. The stunning beauty of a brilliant, awe-inspiring sunset is a miracle. As is the air we breathe. And as are clear crystals of quartz, raindrops, and the automatic reactions we have to smiling puppies, bursting with energy. Mayer’s “embrace” of a mystical world beyond understanding appeals to me. But what he might call “God” I might describe as “everything.” Here is a compelling verse from Holy Now, a string of words that evoke emotions in me that are not religious in the least, but that suggest something undefinably sacred; and following that, a video of Mayer singing the song:

When holy water was rare at best
It barely wet my fingertips
But now I have to hold my breath
Like I’m swimming in a sea of it
It used to be a world half there
Heaven’s second rate hand-me-down
But I walk it with a reverent air
Cause everything is holy now
Everything, everything,
Everything is holy now.

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Sleep has taken on a power that, for me, is far more muscular than its simple five letters would suggest. It is not just more alluring now than it used to be. It is more demanding; more insistent; more emphatic in urging me to treat sleep as curative. It beckons me to reject wasted wakeful hours in favor of unconsciousness. I am becoming inclined to more readily accept its offers of serenity.  Lately, though, when I wake up I feel like I’m abandoning a period of incomparable relaxation…even when my sleep has been restless and infected with disturbing dreams and troubling thoughts.

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Until mi novia asked, a few minutes ago, whether I am scheduled for a chemo treatment tomorrow, I thought tomorrow would be a “free day,” followed by a PET-scan the day after. Now I know; tomorrow WILL BE a chemo day. The day after will, indeed, subject me to a PET-scan. And a week from tomorrow, I will visit my oncologist again to listen to her explain the meaning of the PET-scan’s results. Too much cancer-related thinking and acting. I’d rather sleep.

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Despite getting updates from my brother and his wife that they are safe and “hunkered down” in Mexico…and despite news reports implying the burst of narco-terrorism on Sunday has subsided quite a bit, I worry that they are in closer proximity now to narco-violence than has been the case in the past. I see images of fire-gutted buses, burning storefronts, people being dragged out of cars, and other scenes that cause the hair on the back of my neck to bristle. Getting to and from the airport has been difficult to impossible, according to Facebook posts from local groups in the area. Villages and towns both east and west of theirs have experienced arson and gunfire. That’s not the Mexico I know, but it’s the Mexico of the last few days. Ach!

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Attempts to call my new doctor (who replaced my now-retired general practitioner doctor) have failed.  Her phone returns a fast-busy sound, indicating trouble with the lines. I need something to correct the maddening sounds in my right…and now more recently left…ear. When the deterioration of one’s body becomes so obvious and so annoying and so upsetting, the idea of a medically-induced coma or cryogenic therapy no longer seems quite as dramatic and absurd. Every day brings on recognition of my need for another medical intervention: knee replacement; new hips; shoulder surgery; hair transplant; new eyes with advanced visual acuity; sinus rehabilitation; inner-ear refurbishment; lung transplantation; gastrointestinal tract renovation; transplantation of a new scalp; muscle and bone renewal; epithelial regeneration; and whatever else that might show signs of decay or degradation. While they’re at it, they might as well do a series of transfusions to refresh or replace all bodily fluids. Oh, and a little bit of corrective work on and around my feet.

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Done!