Sunday, July 1, 2007
As the beginning of my aging process, the 30's age group which I shall be entering very soon, begins to kick in I have begun classifying the chapters of my existence into a penultimate (as if the next will be my last) autobiography of "could-have-beens", "should-have-beens" and, still possibly, "may-bes". I see this as an almost common practice among people of all persuasions. Honestly, who wouldn't want to see what things would have been, could have been, or, may be in some sort of strange objective state of observation from an alien vantage point? Imagine standing on the promontory of a not-so-foreign shore and having the ability to erase all traces of overcast in the sky, merely to view the azure light reflecting from the sky and the sea. There are several instances in each of these three categorys that I would give whatever metaphysical substratum that I have to see their endless run of possibilities: the few loves that I had (and some that I still have) and gave up willingly, the family members that I delivered the short shrift to, only to have their death tear what remaining heart I had from my living corpse, the philanthropy that I hope to disseminate to the ones that need it the most, the books that I will eventually compose, all in the name of humanity and without any egoistic ends. While all of these memories are vital and buttress my psychology, they decompose everything non-psychological. I am of a scientific mind and have little faith in any kind of "soul" or "heart", but something in the back of my brain makes me wonder "If you feel it, doesn't that make it so?" I deny this question and push off emotional content for the most part, however, on nights like this where the only comfort comes from a bottle of red, I descend to the more human end of the psyche and indulge my humanity in questions of a more metaphysical nature. Maybe I do harbour a belief in something beyond the atom, beyond fermions and bosons, maybe even beyond strings. The philosophy of physics invested a deep inspiration and reverence in me, almost of a religious kind, but it seems almost empty in a way. Science works, but observation of the Scientific Method only goes so far. The "may-be" category is the lone straggler in the pack. It's slow, unknown, and, to a point, unpredictable. I do not believe that science can predict my "may-bes" even with a know-how of statistics and probability well beyond our current knowledge. Many people would consider the human brain a computer that has a single occupation; to predict outcomes, but the future is not an outcome that can be predicted easily. In this aspect, the future can be our sworn enemy, or, depending on your personal vantage point, our sworn ally. You can't predict what the future holds, but you can have a relatively decent view from the correct footing. I guess that my autobiography from here "may-be" more ad lib than I expected.