“The people my age I do know, who become interested in an alternative lifestyle, if you want to call it that, or who have come out of college…if they’re interested in the farming or arts things that just don’t enter into the traditional workplace… they come out bewildered by how to do it, or is it right to do it? Is it responsible to do that? To not be building up a savings account , whatever, for whatever may come next? There’s a sense of constant planning, and I’m totally guilty of that, of always planning for needing more, whether it be money or space in a home or that next degree…there’s always a pull to go and keep forging ahead on that…societal scale. “ pg 4-5 Radical Homemakers by Shannon Hayes.
This quotation is where I am at mentally. I am not against money or building one’s self up. But I am questioning the motives, the reasons, the time spent. I think of my time, my life, exchanged for – money. Money that I have to pay taxes on, money used to buy more things, which requires me to make more… money. I might as well just start running on my hamster wheel, chasing my tail, or running in circles. No matter how one puts it, I would prefer the cycle to stop…or at least slow down. Nay sayers, please do not worry I have not thrown my cap in on capitalism. I have begun to question who, what, when, where, why, and how? Who are we racing for? What and where are we racing toward? Why? And when does the race end? When we die?
We spend our lives working to make money to get things…for the most part. Then, we die. Trust me the “things” do not come with. I do know things which do, experiences, interactions…in essence the memories other’s have of your linger on. I once had a patient, we would sit up all night at talk. Talk about life. Talk about death. But mainly we talked about life. Optimistic until his death, this special man taught me a lot about living. But not just living, living well. Building a life full of friendship, experiences, stories, family, and love. I asked him one night if I could retell his stories. He told me that night, I am happy to tell these stories of my life, so that if I don’t kick this cancer’s ass I might continue to live, maybe a little, through one of these stories you may retell someday. Please, please retell. He led a full, yet simple life.
I am not going to tell one of his stories today, perhaps in the future. My point being…what is the point of life if it is not enjoyed doing something you have a passion for, hopefully like, and make enough to survive on. “Survive on” being a loaded context driven term.
I apologize for this thought vomit.