The Journey

We awaken with no memory of past lives, our tiny minds a fresh new slate upon which we will write our life story. We are hardwired from birth to behave the way babies do, to suck, to cry, to sense the presence of a warm and caring human. In an optimal world, we later become more familiar with these caring humans and call them mom and dad. We seem to instinctively know that our well-being is totally in their hands, and we are totally dependent.

We see things from behind very unique eyes, our eyes, nobody else’s eyes. "Who is that entity behind my eyes?" we ask ourselves. "Why do I call this entity me?" We have an awareness of self. We seem to want to know the answer to these ageless questions. We are told stories about the world, and those stories are given names like Little Red Riding Hood, and Humpty Dumpty. We begin slowly to learn about good and bad, and we experience others our own age – brothers and sisters, cousins, and eventually other children. We learn that fair play isn't always fair.

Along the way, we learn about rules. We learn that if we break the rules we disappoint our parents we have grown to love. We might even arouse their anger and experience their punishment. As children, we compare our home experiences with other children’s home experiences. At some point we begin to question the infallibility of our parents. We begin to test the boundaries of our own individuality. We go to school, and we test the boundaries even more. Soon, we begin to learn that not all learning comes from older adults, but it also comes from our schoolyard piers. We begin to believe in a form of our own smartness. We become aware of an entire world outside of our family, and we begin to desire that world. We begin to desire independence.

All of this comes, in time, with growing up as a human being. At some point, we begin to think of our future. We begin to plan for a family of our own, a carrier. Or, in some cases we plan to not plan at all. We decide that our own particular style is better suited to just taking each day, one day at a time. Either approach can work, and either approach can fail. Instinctively we know that planning usually yields better results. We begin to feel stress that has thus far been unknown to us. 

After some formal education, and a little job experience, we step out on our own. We discover a significant person along the way, we fall in love, and begin the parenthood phase – most of us do, but not all. We become “responsible” adults, join the PTA, plan for family vacations, dance recitals, Little League games, Football games, and all the things families do. Our marriages are strained for most of us, but we learn to put in the effort to “make it happen.” For some of us, the stress becomes too much and we lose our marriages for various reasons. At this point, we begin a new relationship with our children, one in which we are usually blamed for our foibles and faults. Is the blame justified? Who knows. We've gotten to the point that we don't even know the answer to that. We begin to question almost everything we thought to be true.

Along this journey, some of us begin to take drugs like Prozac, and some of us begin to lean on alcohol and tobacco. Oh yes, we played with substances earlier in life, but we didn't need them as we do now. We know it’s wrong, but we do it anyway. The church we used to attend, we no longer do. We have developed a mistrust of organized religions. Some of us become atheists while others become Buddhists. Some of us eventually rediscover our traditional religious roots. But we also begin to realize that our life has been a life of questions: What are we here for? What is our purpose? We develop what many call a midlife crisis, but we believe we are too good for something like that. So we suffer in silence refusing to admit that we are not happy. We feel stuck.

At some point, we find something new. It can be a new relationship, or a new spiritual path. Either way, we begin to find a form of higher happiness and a new passion. We begin to realize that we used to make everything so much more difficult than it needed to be when we were young. We realize that our happiness comes from within, not from the world “out there.” We no longer value the number of friends we have, but instead the quality of friends that we have.  

Our kids have children of their own now, and we see the cycle we lived being repeated over again by them, mistakes and all. We are wise enough to know that we have to allow them to make their mistakes. All we can do is be supportive. After all, they still blame us for so much, but they are also beginning to realize that blaming us is wrong. Just as you forgave your parents, eventually they will forgive you.

We began to realize that we were getting old several years ago, but we haven't admitted it until very recently. We begin to "be okay" with getting old. Our pleasures are simpler now, and we take pleasure in seeing youth, and its arrogance, on display all around us. When we see youth on display, we see ourselves years ago.

We drive slower and safer. We worry about having enough money so that our kids won't have to worry about us. We worry about our prescriptions. We value a fire in the fireplace, and a dog on the floor. We love silence. Our music is different.

We have always known about death, but we were not prepared for it so soon. We have always envisioned being very old when it comes. So, when we first realized that death would come sooner rather than later, we were naturally surprised and just a little frightened too. Most of us will find a place to put our own demise, and to face it bravely with dignity. In the end, death brings with it its own anesthetic somehow, and when we climb aboard that train, it is a welcomed departure. We are free to continue our journey down that long track to a place none of us has ever successfully described to another living human being. In a timeless moment repeated throughout eternity, we will awaken with no memory of past lives, our tiny minds a fresh new slate upon which we will write our life story.