Struggling with my health the past few weeks has got me thinking. In many small ways, I have been constantly reminded of my own mortality. Laid up in bed with the worst flu I can think of, knowing that I most likely wont die of this flu, but that many will, has me asking myself how best to use my good health when I have it. Being told I have Type 2 diabetes also has me mightily aware that my hands, my feet, my eyes...these are temporary objects. Even though I can not know how long my limbs and my sensibilities will remain in my control, My strength, my will, my existence is finite. I could turn my thoughts to what comes afterward, but instead I find myself asking what am I doing with my strength?
My strength, what will I choose to do with it? Perhaps, I don't need to reflect morbidly on the fears of the unknown. Rather, what to do with my strength while it is here, while I have it.
Will I regret not having watched Family Guy and the episode of the Simpsons I have seen twice already? Perhaps not. However, I may regret not having finished certain books or having not completed certain tasks.
How much of my life is spent spectating, not the truly wondrous things or the world, but rather fiddling away on corporate sponsored diversions?
Watching Seinfeld reruns is not a task, accomplishment, or even a ambivalent use of my time. Turning my brain off so often, so frequently is a crime. A crime against myself.
Now this isn't a diatribe against "downtime". Rest and recuperation are essential to the overall maintenance of one's strength. But, in all honesty, how many of us indulge in this downtime to too far a regular frequency? How many of us are caught between discouragement, apathy, and cynicism...and like a soma, use the TV as an escape not from pain, but from our own ambitions?
my health and my strength will return. This is I know. And, I must use them to amplify my ambitions, my goals. If I am to measure up to the man I want to be, the writer, the artist, the individual...I must never squander my strength on the distractions others might have set along the curbside of my journey