In my last posting I said I was “89 and shooting for 100”. In this post I will explain again that I write from the perspective of one who is nearing the end of a long journey and looking beyond my 100th year. The question is obvious. What do I know about what happens beyond my hundredth year?
The answer is simple. I know nothing. I do not even know beyond one second from now. In the next moment I may slump over my computer desk without time to push my call button to signal an emergency. Sometime later someone may find my collapsed body. While I acknowledge these possibilities, I know nothing.
Knowing nothing is not new to me. I did not know that I would be conceived by my mother and father. I did not know I would be born to a small family on a small organic farm in Franklin County, Pennsylvania. I did not know that I would meet and woo Rhoda, and we would have a daughter and an adopted son.
Rhoda and I did not know what was ahead of us when we drove southward in our 1931 Chevrolet coupe. Not knowing might have made us nervous and a bit fearful, but we sang, I will not be afraid. We were naive, not fearful.
Ponder these simple thoughts: I may wish for a something so strongly that I begin to believe it is real and will be granted to me. My active imagination may support my belief. For instance, I may wish so strongly for a heaven with streets of gold and a river of life that I begin to believe such to be in our future. By faith, I may begin to act, sing, talk, even preach and write as though I knew that bliss awaited me and persuade others to be as hopeful as I am.
Unfortunately, I could be deceiving myself. For wishing, believing, imagining, and acting as though something is real does not add up to knowing it’s true. Even my knowledge of my past is unreliable because I am 89, and my memories fade.
Jerome Sawatski knows what this is all about. He was a university professor, author, and researcher in peace and conflict studies until he was diagnosed with a fatal disease called Huntington’s Disease. HD is a disease that strikes quickly and slowly but certainly diminishes the human brain. He is writing a blog named, Dancing with an Elephant.
In my next blog I hope to write of what to do in the meantime that is between now and then
Ever watchful Joy
Noticed something was lacking
There is no Haiku