Not Trying to Freak You out on a Lazy Sunday, but...

Over dinner recently, my friend Je and I were discussing the subject of infinity, and I shared how absolutely terrifying I find it.  I can remember being 6 or 7 and lying in bed, trying to grasp the idea of forever.

ForEVER!!!

Seriously, just humor me and spend 2 minutes with your eyes closed, trying to really appreciate the notion.

As a child, I was pondering infinity because I’d learned that—according to my faith (and if I played my cards right), I could spend eternity in heaven.  This was supposed to be a good thing.  I could spend the rest of forever in paradise.  It could be partially due to my inability to even imagine the kind of paradise that heaven (if it exists) could offer, but the longer I thought about spending eternity ANYwhere, the more I began to feel crushed under the weight of the concept.  I was probably close to hyperventilating, picturing in my mind as far as I could see or imagine on the horizons of both time and space, and then trying to imagine time and space beyond that, and beyond, and beyond, and beyond.  Forevvvvvvvvvver.

Forever in silence, forever in dark are also ideas I’m not keen on.  Because there is at least a 50% chance that when it’s over, it’s really just over.  Now consider THAT idea for a few…

I think I may have written about this before, but I’m at least somewhat alarmed every time it comes to mind.  Dig this for a second:

I think that if you’re my age and you aren’t afraid of death—at least a little bit—you’re just not thinking about it hard enough.  You’re not really and truly letting yourself imagine what the beyond may (or may not!) hold.

I’m open to hearing other opinions on this, but despite what anyone may tell me about what he or she has come to believe about the afterlife, it seems to me that all reasonable people have to agree on this: nobody is absolutely sure.

Related to that, Je and I discussed the possibility of non-human entities being able to house the essence of a person.  

Plenty of people have imagined, even predicted there will be a day when machines can not only think and react like humans do, but can feel and empathize and surmise and love and anticipate and change their opinions on subjects like humans do.  And if a person’s essence could truly be bottled up in this way, we would have in effect discovered the fountain of youth, no?

It’s possible this movie already exists, but the idea definitely got me thinking about the decisions people would be faced with if these technological possibilities were ever realized: would you rather spend the rest of however long this planet/universe is around perfecting and experiencing life in this known/comfortable realm (and housed in some semi-human form), or would you like to take the gamble on death in the hopes (or with the faithful knowledge) that something better lies beyond?  If this movie hasn’t already been made, I’d like to see it happen (hopefully not starring Arnold Schwarzenegger).

It’s impossible for me to say what I would choose, and I’m not sure I like the idea of messing with the life spans we’ve come to know and work within (beyond advancing medicine to alleviate a lot of suffering and extending people’s lives long enough for them to experience the joy of grandchildren).  How long is long enough?  What will we do with an extra 40, 60, 200 years that we wouldn’t do if only expecting the standard 70 or so?

Unless of course there is NOTHING after, in which case we should live it up and stretch it out as long as we can!

Oof.  What a dilemma.

Until I reach that place that many elderly people arrive at—satisfied with the lives they’ve lived and left at peace with the fast-approaching end—I will remain thankful for the not knowing.  Not knowing is what drives us to create.  To procreate.  It’s what’s kept me from settling for less-than-ideal and what makes me want to meet and know people.  It causes me to just go for it when presented with amazing, terrible-for-me food, but it's also what drives me to the gym the next day to make up for it.

Not knowing is the best possible incentive a person can have.

If that’s true by chance, how lucky we are for it.  If there is a God and this is God’s design, well that is just the trickster scheme of the century.  Of infinity!

I kind of hope nobody ever figures it out…

The GGA Project -- Day #285 "On Connectedness"

Today I woke up hungover from an emotional night.  There was nothing in particular that sparked it...just the feeling of having been distracted so well of late that I'd neglected to feel all the emotions that were all there just below the surface.  I had the day off work, which was good, because as it turned out I spent much of the day either teary or on the verge of tears.  I'm not sure why I'm emotionally vulnerable (I don't believe it was just PMS at work), but I try not to fight those feelings when I have them; I see them as necessary to understanding why feeling good feels so, well, good.


Midday I left my house to run some errands, and took the back way down from where we live toward Dublin, where Target awaited me.  On the way there I noticed a substantial memorial on the side of the frontage road that I'd never noticed before, and I made a mental note of that for the trip back.


The first thing I saw when I walked into Target was a little boy in tears, talking to his dad.  The dad was being nice and listening to the boy, but I'm telling you it took every ounce of restraint in me to keep from kneeling down and scooping that boy into my arms for a big Mama hug.  Never mind that I'm not his Mama.  I was still feeling pretty raw myself, and I'm not sure if the instinct came from a desire to comfort the boy, or the simple thought: this little dude feels me.  We could have a nice cry together :)


I restrained myself.


I don't believe I've ever wandered and browsed as professionally as I did today.  I didn't have anywhere to be, and I was in just the mood to look at all the lookable things and take my time picking up what I needed, namely food and a few incidentals for Monkey.  It was relaxing and probably just what my heart was seeking in that moment: solitude and peace--even the fluorescent-lit variety.


On the way home I found a place to pull off the road so I could pay my respects where I'd seen the memorial.  This is not something I've ever done, though it wasn't the first time curiosity and sadness-for-the-unknown-loss have instructed the inclination, which I've heretofore ignored.


Today's New Activity: Pausing to Remember


What caught my eye about this memorial was the large photo collage.  When I drove by I thought, 'this person was loved.'  Of course any roadside memorial, by virtue of its existence, belongs to somebody who is survived by people who loved him or her.  But this was a lot of love.

I was especially surprised to see that the teenager in the photos actually died three years ago.  The cards, flowers, and photos seem to have been left recently, on the 3rd anniversary of her death.  That made me simultaneously happy and sad for this girl--happy she was so loved that even teenagers (with their short attention spans) would put the effort forth to remember her after all that time, sad that she was plucked from their lives so soon, just shortly after her 17th birthday.


Some research revealed that the young woman, Sarah, died in a car being driven by a young man named Clark, her friend and co-worker.  Witnesses said the car was seen racing another car shortly before the crash.  Ugh.  The driver had lost control and the car flipped onto its roof.  Both teens were pronounced dead at the scene.


I found this story heartbreaking.  Clark had just graduated from high school two months prior, and Sarah was about to start her senior year.  It sickens me to think how tragic the seemingly mundane poor choices young people make can turn out to be.  And when I think about these kids' parents....I can't even think about that for very long.  As a mom, my biggest fear will likely always be to lose my child.  I really don't know how people ever recover from that experience.


I guess what I really came away with today was the feeling that my own struggles, while significant to me, can sometimes pale in comparison to the pain others have suffered.  At the same time, I also feel that my pain is connected to the pain of everyone else in this world, whether or not our lives meet.  That's a lot of pain to bear for everyone involved, but it's also the promise that we are never alone, any of us.  


And so, somehow, I found today uniquely beautiful.

The GGA Project -- Day #230 "On Properly Celebrating [a] Life"

I mentioned last week that a former coworker of mine died suddenly at the tender age of 38.  William was a kind, low-key person with infinite patience (10 years' worth) for every manner of obnoxious customer one can imagine and without a bad word to speak of anybody.  It sent a ripple of shock through the group of friends who knew him to learn of the untimely loss.  And I know many of us were sorry to have missed his funeral and wake, which happened in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week.  We knew some kind of gathering was necessary...for us all to have the chance to get together and remember William--to celebrate his life.


An informal gathering was suggested by my friend Alejandra just the day after his death, and it was pleasantly surprising to see so many people make it out on a Monday night with just a few hours' notice.  We met at TGIF's that night, since that was where so many of our gatherings had taken place, back when Barnes & Noble was still a fun place to work, full of youthful, friendly people who shared a mutual respect and care for one another.


Today's New Activity: Remembering William, Barnes & Noble Style


We planned for a second gathering to take place tonight, since Friday seemed like a more easily accessible day on which to get together.  And a fitting remembrance it was.  Colleen and Will, who met a Barnes & Noble years ago and married a few months back, hosted the gathering at the home where Colleen used to host many a party, back in the day.  Will put together a beautiful slideshow of pictures, and people who hadn't gotten together in years were there to pay tribute.


One thing interesting to me was that I didn't hear a lot of talk about William tonight.  See, here's the thing: William himself didn't talk much.  He was always there, sometimes among the last to leave a get together, but he was very quiet in nature.  Tonight's felt like so many other gatherings at which William was present--even in life he was there more in spirit than in any sort of calling-attention-to-himself way.  I find that beautiful.  And I find it beautiful that--although he was so reserved in life--his loss was felt so deeply and by so many people.


I think about mortality with some frequency.  Perhaps more than average, perhaps not.  But it's been on my mind a lot lately, beginning about 6 weeks ago.  Nothing in particular set me thinking in that way.  It was just part of a cycle of thinking I return to in waves.


I discussed it most recently with Nicole following my attendance at the Pride Parade in San Francisco a few weeks ago.  I was telling her how brave I thought it was for people to live an out-of-the-closet homosexual life.  Despite the lifting of much of the stigma in recent decades, I know there is still plenty of misunderstanding if not downright judgment and hatred toward homosexuals, and I think it takes an amazing strength of spirit for somebody to come out, particularly to their closest friends and family.  Nicole said that she believes people who live in this way have the right thinking about what life is meant to be.  She related it to lucid dreaming--of being able to know you're in a dream and steer the events as you like--to do what you like without fear or reservation.  She related the event of one's death to the waking from such a lucid dream.  The idea was that, for all we know, this lifetime is all we have, and when it's over, our part in the experience of living has been played.  And so many of us play out that part according to the rules and script set forth by others, never taking the chance to orchestrate our own moves in this lucid dream of life.  Nicole really got me thinking with that.


Of course, she was not talking about living a debauched life of moral depravity and disregard for laws or for the feelings of others.  It was just about living fully out loud as the person who is bursting from within you, without worrying about the judgments of others or even the vast majority of social norms.  I love that idea.  I love love love that idea.


William's death, at such a young age and following just a year and a half after the death of his own sister, was just another reminder to me that we could suddenly and unexpectedly wake from this dream at any moment...or not.  There is really NO TIME AT ALL to waste, or to spend steeped in doubt, unhappiness, stress, or despair.  It's the best of The Shawshank Redemption: Time to get busy living or get busy dying.  And since we are all headed toward death anyway, every single day, there really is only one viable option among those two choices.  Living it is, then.


Among those in this group pictured below are some of my favorite people in the whole world, and for a long time running now.  I am so sorry it took the passing of one of them to get us all together again.  And how wonderful it was to be together again...all grown up, the partying and smoking days out of our systems, the benefit of a few years of wisdom and experience in our corners.  And with a freshly renewed appreciation for was a blessing it is to be alive.  Fully alive.

William, I hope to encounter you again, someday, somewhere.  And I hope someone is there with us to tell the sheep joke for old time's sake :)

The GGA Project -- Day #218 "Heartbreaking Loss/Heartwarming Win, Heartbreaking Loss"

Still sick, I had to cancel plans with my friend Alex to participate in the AIDS walk in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park.  I was really sad to do this.  Not only was I looking forward to the 6-mile walk (great exercise), I was excited because it's a family friendly event that I planned to bring Monkey along to.  It was sure to be a nice time.  But it's been cold lately, and I knew we needed to rest up and get better before we leave on vacation next week.  I also didn't want to get anyone else sick.  So yeah, we skipped it.


I managed to sleep in a bit, which almost never happens, so while I didn't feel any better this morning, I also didn't feel any worse.  And having planned to be home for the day, I was able to sit in for


Today's New Activity: Watching the FIFA Women's World Cup Finals


I'll admit I'm a bandwagon soccer fan.  I didn't grow up watching or playing soccer, so I have no emotional connection to the sport.  I like it when I watch it, but I usually only do that during the World Cup--and only the Men's World Cup at that.  But I've been paying enough attention to know that the US Women's team has done an amazing job during this tournament, and I definitely wanted to catch their chance at the finals, versus Japan.


There was a lot of talk about how Japan was the sentimental favorite, given the tragedy of March's earthquake and tsunami and all the deaths that came as a result.  Nobody would have been upset to see them win; quite the contrary is probably true.


So although it was tough to see the US team miss so many goal opportunities and lose a close one in penalty kicks after an overtime, it was heartwarming to see the Japanese women take this emotional win back to their country...an added measure of pride and hope for all the people back home.  Yes, that was nice to see.


That was the end of the nice reportings for the day.


A few hours after the game I received a shocking text from my friend Nessa that our mutual friend and (former for me, current for her) coworker William had died in his sleep earlier this afternoon.  William was recently diagnosed with cancer, but he'd started treatment and by all accounts was doing well.  He'd reported feeling good and being in good spirits lately, and had only hours earlier posted a comic strip on his Facebook page.


A call from Alex (with whom I was supposed to do the walk this morning)--who'd visited William just yesterday--revealed that William's sister came home this afternoon and found him unresponsive after apparently having just laid down for a nap, and attempts to revive him had failed.


William was 37.  It's such a terribly tragedy for the family, made worse by the fact that his sister, also under 40, had died suddenly of complications related to a heart condition just two years ago.


It was such a terrible shock, and I know the group of friends who knew William is reeling from it.  We don't know yet the cause of death, and the thought that he could just go to sleep one afternoon and not wake up is as sobering as it is upsetting.  I've experienced the deaths of people I know--older people who I knew would pass before me.  But the death of a coworker and peer is new, sad territory.


And this is the thought too, whenever I hear about a death and have the time to really think about it:  Where is William now?  Where is he?  Where did the entity, the person we knew as "William" go to?  Just like that.  He was here and then he was gone.  And to where?


I know that people who are members of most religions would say they know the answer to this question.  Or at least they could narrow it down to a few choices.  But I'm not convinced.  I still don't know how anyone living could really know what happens after we die.  Or even if some people do somehow have an idea of the "what," for sure nobody has a clue about the "how"... the how it feels, the what it looks like, the who else is there, the how long it takes to get to the next step.  Oh my gosh...when I really think about it?  Really and truly?  I'm terrified.


The idea of nothingness to follow is terrifying.  The idea of eternity is equally terrifying to me.  And it's that final moment I think about the most: the moment when what we know of a person switches over from "here" to... where/what/nowhere/nothing (?)


Today I understand why people try to communicate with the deceased.  All afternoon and evening I was having these thoughts: 'William, where are you now?  Can you just send a little sign and especially let me know if you know what's going on down here?  That people down here are sorry to hear of your passing?  Are missing you?  Can you let us in on the secret?'


But I know that is not possible.  I know that the mystery of death is that it remains a mystery to all of us until it is our turn.  And writing about this...I'm really, really sad that William's turn came so soon.

The GGA Project -- Day #163 "Act 3: The Lesson"

Well I've had a wonderful birthday weekend (I love that, stretching your birthday out into an entire weekend or week.  We used to tease my grandpa that he could somehow make his birthday last a whole month).  Today I had to face the music and return to work.  We are thoroughly understaffed, so there was no chance of getting the day off, but it was ok.


Actually, it was very sobering.


Today's New Activity: Birthday Perspective


Today was the first day back to work for a coworker who'd been on family leave.  During that time (the day after Mother's Day), this young woman's mother passed away after having spent the past year in and out of the hospital.  As unpleasant as it was to spend 9 hours at my job on my birthday, that unpleasantness paled in comparison to what my coworker was going through...the new reality she'd be coming to terms with, bit by bit, for some time to come no doubt.  The brevity of life message rang loud and clear to me on this day.


My coworker was doing fairly well, considering, but I know she's probably still somewhat in shock.  Also, she still has family in town, which is helping her feel connected and keeping her from ruminating on her loss (she shared this).  She is bound to have some very rough moments in the days and months and years to come.  I wish I knew her just a little bit better so that I felt I could have more to offer in friendship, but listening to somebody talk through these stages is certainly a way to get to know a person.  It can be difficult to know how to talk with people who've just lost a love one.  It can feel like a tainted, dirty secret of a subject, and it can feel like bringing it up with the mourning, emotionally fragile survivor might make something break.  But in my experience, just to have the chance to talk and know that there's a person out there who can bear to hear it can be a relief.  Sometimes it's EASIER to talk to quasi-strangers who are far enough from the situation themselves, emotionally.


Listening to my coworker (I'll call her Miriam) talk, watching her eyes well up with tears, I couldn't help but get emotional myself.  I was trying to fathom what it would be like to lose somebody as close as your mother and this point in life (she's my age or even a little younger).  And I hate to wax sentimental on my birthday (so trite), I have to say it gave me the perspective that one always hopes to have gained in the course of experiencing another year of life.  I'd say it was a beautiful gift.


to be continued...

The GGA Project -- Day #91 "A Life for Sale"

As you may have gleaned from an earlier post, I love recycled things.  I consider it absolute victory to find something cool (especially something vintage cool) at a good price because it's used.  I will battle any thrift store crowd or grime in the name of the treasure hunt.  My friend Nicole and I will stand in line until one of us literally faints with exhaustion and lack of food (not gonna mention who, but you should ask Nicole about it some time) to get in on half-off days at Savers.


But one thing I don't do enough of is garage sale-ing.  My other best friend Kelsi is the Queen of the Garage Sale.  When asked about them, she'll report that about half the cool things I find in her house came from garage sales--and most of those she never planned to be at.  She is just the kind of person who is out and about early enough on the weekend to get in on the best offerings.


What's extra nice about garage sales is that, while thrift store prices are pretty much set in stone, there is a lot of bargaining room at garage sales, given that most people--having made the decision to get rid of something--would practically pay you to take if off their hands rather than bring it back into the house (that is, of course, if they're doing it right.  Some people treat garage sales as if they were Christie's auctions, as if their broken down junk were their ticket to early retirement.  Skip those sales).

Anyway, one used-stuff-for-sale realm into which I'd yet to venture became

Today's New Activity: Visiting an Estate Sale

I suppose that to be technically accurate, I would have to say that I've been to *one* estate sale before, but there is no way I'm counting that.  A few years back my ex and I were heading to Hakone Gardens when, just outside of downtown Saratoga, we saw a sign advertising an estate sale.  I was very curious, so we pulled off the road and followed the arrows down a super steep hill and into what seemed like a squatter's hut at the edge of a clearing.  It was exactly what I would have pictured if there'd been an estate sale scene in Silence of the Lambs.  I couldn't even tell what was for sale...there was just a whole bunch of fit-for-the-dump garbage lying around outside the hut.  And it was obvious these things hadn't been laid out especially for that day's sale...they were lying in heaps with the cobwebs and the rust and the soot of years.  I started to believe the estate sale sign was really just bait meant to lure unsuspecting victims, especially when the old curmudgeon who lived there invited us into the hut and I saw all sorts of jars filled with off-colored liquids and unidentifiable matter.  Still, we managed to purchase an ironing board from him, which we then had to lug back up the hill...good to be alive though!

This estate sale--on the other hand--was as legit as they come.  About 8 houses up from ours, an elderly woman recently passed away at the age of 101.  Today, her daughter and son-in-law opened her house up to strangers, offering them what seemed like the whole of this woman's life--every last bit of it, from the towels in the bathroom to her baggies of buttons and felt and beads, to the entire contents of her closet, each garment hanging there in stunned silence and perfect order.

I have to say it was strange and eerie to be walking through the rooms of a home whose owners I didn't know.  Even more strange was knowing I was doing so in the interest of purchasing something from the life of this stranger, removing a tiny piece of all that was left of that person here on earth.  For her kin, I imagine the Herculean task of unloading 101 years' worth of this woman's collected things was outdone only by the sadness at the thought that (if all went according to plan) those things, those memory keepers, would soon be gone forever.

I believe anybody who says he or she is not afraid of death is lying, or simply hasn't given the concept the in-depth thought it deserves--thought which almost inevitably leads to the conclusion that death is a pretty frightening prospect.  Maybe people aren't afraid of the dying itself, but I don't know that people are really considering the weight of the unknown that follows death when they say they're not afraid to face it.  Unless one is deeply religious and believes, albeit in the complete absence of any proof, that death is the beginning of a better existence, it is hard for me to see how the idea of death cannot but give one at least a pregnant pause.  Like, way past-due kind of pregnant.


I was standing in the deceased homeowner's bedroom and thinking, 'this is what it all leads to...One hundred and one years of life, of sleeping in this bed and clothing her body in this clothes, of crocheting these little hen-shaped tchatchkes and cooking food on this stove...it leads to strangers romping through and hauling it all away, to prepping this house for sale, to closing up shop on this life that seemed so all-important when the living was taking place.'  And certainly it was, for all the people this woman touched.  But standing in her empty bedroom, staring at the perfectly-aligned sensible loafers in her closet, I couldn't help but wonder where, if anywhere, she was now.