“Everyone, deep in their hearts, is waiting for the end of the world to come.” ― Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
Is that true?
Are we waiting, perhaps even hoping, silently, ever so silently that we don’t even let ourselves in on our little secret? Do we desperately struggle to stay alive, while hoping that our world ends soon? Is it a death wish unrecognized?
Life is painful … and joyful … but the pain seems to return, seems to be built right in. After all, we can’t live forever. People we love leave us. If they haven’t already, they will. Even the planet seems to be mad at us, appears in fact, ready and willing to wipe us off this round blue ball.
There really is no way to win, to survive the game. We will die. Maybe that’s why so many seem hell bent on destroying earth on their way out. They don’t get to stay and play, to rule, to be the crowned fool, and It’s going to end, at least personally. Why not give it a hand. At least that way they aren’t a victim. That would appeal to the bigger egos, the ones who believe themselves to be kings of the world, titans of the dollar bill, who need to maintain the facade that they are in control.
What about the rest of us? Is it true for us as well? Are we quietly hoping for the end?
When I read that quote it stopped me. Something there caught my heart, tempted me to dig deeper. Am I waiting? Am I anticipating an end, perhaps an end prettied up with beliefs in a new beginning?
It is tough watching loved ones leave, but at least they have the get of jail free card. When Kenny died, I wasn’t distraught because he was gone, but because I didn’t get to go with him. I was worn to the nub of my emotions, cracked wide open in despair, and what was here? The desire for my world to end. Hmmm ….
As tough as watching beloveds leave is seeing those who remain caught in the recurring patterns that inform lives, that change so little as to feel like Groundhog Day … seasons, holidays, the markers of life, different names, different places, played over and over again like a record stuck in a groove.
It’s not really the same. Nothing is ever the same. No two moments could be the same, similar perhaps, but the same, never. They are just like fingerprints, unique when explored, when met in the emptiness, when danced in the fullness of life’s offering.
Most don’t see that. Most of us are caught in the cycles, unaware of differences and similarities, of the ability to see what’s really here, what’s right in front of our eyes. We move through the motions inside the patterns of life. From birth to death, from childhood, to parenthood, to grandparenthood, sifting through the cycles .. and the wheel turns round and round.
I can see why the quotes are accurate … lives of quiet desperation, lives lived waiting for the world to end, wanting it to be over, hoping it is sooner rather than later … mostly not aware that the wish is there.
It’s not good or bad, right or wrong, it is simply something to notice. Noticing it seems to untie its knot, or at least loosen it up a bit. Being fascinated by these human bodies and minds makes it possible to notice, otherwise we tend to harden against the seeing.
I love to notice my humanness, the human condition to which no one is immune, my silly thoughts, my particular brand of crazy. I don’t mind leaving, but I’d like to stay around awhile and see how this act of the play turns out. I paid a lot for this front row seat. I’m okay with paying a bit more.
There is no appropriate bio for Amaya Gayle. She doesn’t exist other than as an expression of Consciousness Itself. Talking about her in biographical terms is a disservice to the truth and to anyone who might be led to believe in such nonsense. None of us exist, not in the way we think. Ideas spring into words. Words flow onto paper and yet no one writes them. They simply appear fully formed. Looking at her you would swear this is a lie. She’s there after all, but honestly, she’s not. Bios normally wax on about accomplishments and beliefs, happenings in time and space. She has never accomplished anything, has no beliefs and like you was never born and will never die. Engage with Amaya at your own risk. That said with a giggle, check out Amaya’s new book – Actuality: infinity at play, available in paperback and e-book at Amazon.
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