I’ve been in a funk lately. I don’t know what the source of it is. This summer just doesn’t feel right somehow–the mystery, the magic, the high I usually feel is just not there. Time is flowing by my eyes in an indecipherable blur and I can’t seem to get anything to slow down long enough for me to live in a moment. Last summer seemed filled with magic and possibilities and new beginnings; this summer sounds like a steady drum roll my brain has already got used to listening to.
Maybe I’m caught up in my thoughts too much lately. Maybe I just haven’t taken the time to sit back and appreciate things.
A few nights ago I had one of those dreams so terrifying and real that it left me trapped in the confusing shroud of emotion I experienced while dreaming as though I never woke up. I was left with an empty feeling of desolation, a loneliness so strong it echoes something of what I felt in the year Mike died.
Rationally, I know it’s just a dream. My brain doesn’t seem to care as it continues to feed the neurons that send messages of fear and depression to my consciousness. I feel like I’m being mocked by my own sense of security and untouchable independence that I spent the last six years building around myself. It’s like God laughing, “See, I told you, you can still be hurt. You are not immune.”
Ugh. Just another whiny blog, I know. Life just seems so hard sometimes. They say that if it wasn’t, you would not understand how great the joys are when they happen. I don’t know if I buy into that philosophy. Seems to me I could be perfectly happy never knowing pain or heartache or death. Though, I suppose that thought comes from the perspective of one who experiences these things. I do often wonder that if I lived in Eden (or the hereafter) if I could be half as passionate about life as I am here because I know it’s fleeting. If there is a God, maybe he knows that and that is why he gave us freewill. If you were omnipotent and immortal, I suppose you would understand the curse of your own existence–that you can’t feel like those who know what it is like to lose life and love and happiness. You would want to create colorful beings, right? Ones capable of the love and compassion and spirited artistic passion because you could live vicariously through them. Our curse is our blessing.
I’ve been watching for the first time Babylon 5 on DVD. I’m in the midst of the fourth season and the show has sloppily reached the climatic point that three seasons carefully constructed. Turns out life and death and “knowing when to leave gracefully” is the prevalent theme J. Michael Straczynski built his story arch around. The show obviously takes place in a future in which Earthlings are among other extra-solar races running around the galaxy trying to get along with each other. A race called “The First Ones” are alluded to throughout the series and we finally meet one at the end of the story arch. He is the only one left behind because the rest of his race had advanced to such a level they decided it was their time to move on from the galaxy and advance “beyond the Rim.” To let the younger races live out their drama.
The First Ones were, obviously, supposed to be of the first races that existed in the galaxy and, as such, they were immortal. They never said “God” by name; they simply said “the Universe” decided that life without the urgency of an ending stagnates. So one day, “the Universe” changed all the rules and life became mortal. I didn’t know the Universe was a conscious living thing, but I suppose you could look at it this way. I’m sure they wanted to use the word “God” but they were afraid all the sci-fi geeks would run away if they felt preached to. Back when the series was actually running, I might have been one of the geeks to object. (This was the days before Battlestar Galactica when God and gods were the central theme from the start.)
Regardless, it’s an interesting thought. I kind of feel let down by the end of the story arch, though, because it seems like Straczynski had an idea going, and then in like three or four short episodes, it deflated rather quickly. The theme about life and death was the most interesting part. The bit where the first ones who were mortal acted like crying, lonely babies who needed to be escorted to the Rim was a bit lame. Maybe I’m just getting cynical in my old age because it feels like I’ve seen too much of the same thing–too many plot patterns. Kind of like life sometimes, it feels as though no one ever comes up with anything new. Not even me, writing in this blog (and I took up blogging after everyone else had been doing it for years, so I am not any more original than the next internet addict or wanna be writer).
I hope I get out of this funky mood soon. It’s kind of annoying.