Thursday, July 2, 2009

One shot ...

I get one shot at this life of mine.

Am I here merely to fill a space, fill my days, buy a house, go to work, clean the house, please others, please myself, 'do' coffee?

Do I spend my life-time shaping my mind, body and soul only to find out later on that most of it doesn't count for much anyway?

Do I want to be invisible and forgotten when I am gone or do I want to leave a legacy for any followers I may have?

Do I want to make a difference in the world or leave well alone, living a life that counts for something or nothing at all?

What is important for one is insignificant to another - so how do I decide what to pursue and what to ignore? Will any of it really matter anyway?

Is truth relative, subjective, finite or infinite?

Can I trust what I see, know, experience and learn, and am I also blinded and deceived by the very same things?

I can trust God or not, I can trust people or not, and can I trust myself?

If I were to document my daily life, how much would be trivial and how much would matter?
And on what basis would I make my judgements about what matters and what doesn't?

Look at all the masters and the great theories of life - all are sound and all are faulty.

We all look at the world through our own rose-tinted lenses, our experiences and knowledge, our history and perceptions - all these things shape our worldviews. Putting myself in a learning seat is my favourite thing. I love looking at the world from others perspectives and trying to see things differently. I am inspired by peoples resilience to hardships, their inspiration sources, their drive, their failures and mistakes, their sicknesses and their cures. Humanity is ripe for observation.

Making one's mark in the world isn't a new ambition. I've heard it told that everybody wants to be remembered, to make 'their mark'. Yet the other night Rich asked me where my great great grandparents are buried, and honestly, I couldn't recall. I know so little of them. In just two generations they are forgotten. By the next generation it is possible that they won't even have existed.

We were talking about what to do if one of us died. I wish it was possible to just wrap me in a bunch of my cloths (no ugly expensive coffin, just my nice cloth that will rot away) and bury me in a big deep hole somewhere nice, put some of my stones and finds on top as a marker of sorts (which will disappear eventually of course), have a few words on the rocks where I go, and maybe a glass or two afterwards with some shared laughs over the hardcase idiot things I've said and done.

I am a funny old bird. I want to have my best friend with me always. Ideally I would carry him around with me wherever I went in life. Like ashes in an urn or something that I've crafted. (So if I happen to be carrying a cool looking container one day and stroking it, hug me gently and let me be). And then when I am an old lady I will throw his ashes in the sea, or not. Probably just put him in the same hole that I am buried in.

Atop the old bird's mountain in Wellington

I once said, "I don't want you to die."
He said, "That's ok, you can go first."
He's like that. Not prone to speaking much but when he does its succinct and to the point. Ha-bloody ha! :)

I don't ponder death often. I am so on fire about living my life. Even the lazy bits have me thinking. I know folks who go on about growing old, as if that is the worse thing in the world.
I know my assumptions will be seen as arrogant by others but I am looking forward to being a blessing tomorrow and God-willing in all the years I have left.

I can see that making stuff will always be a part of me, it gathers others around me, leaves me feeling clever and I get deep satisfaction when I show someone how to do something and they come back with the same idea multiplied and transformed into a creation.

I love adventures. My pockets aren't deep so my foraging is only along our local coastline. Trips away usually mean people. But the more I walk along these shores, the more I see. I walk slowly and pick up bits of flotsam and sea-leavings. I look up and the sky is everychanging. The shoreline changes. The climate warms and cools. The plants get bigger. The rocks are the same but are always different. The people frolic in summer and in winter scurry past with hunched shoulders urging their dogs home.

March 2008
My kids. They are both chore and pleasure. The thankless chore of always being responsible. Giving all and then consumed with guilt still that I haven't done enough or may have missed something vital. Pleasure, the unconditional love, the mystic attraction of their smallness and vulnerability. Witnessing them care for others with their own heart motivation. Doing right of their own volition.
My three noble reasons for not being a jerk.

God. A faith based on something bigger and definitely better than I. Gratitude that in submission is freedom that surpasses logic, circumstances, ability and aptitude. Being part of something truly good. Belonging to and being loved by Him, the ultimate Creator, one who's voice has been my constant since childhood. The Rock that is higher than I.

I have a friend who even in illness stopped by last night to share a kind word and usually anything else that might relieve me of some burden in my life. I received a lovely croceted hat in all my earthy colours which I suspect was made with me in mind, although it was carelessly tossed at me and told "if it fits you, it's yours." It's wonderful to have people like that in my life. And my aim is simple to be one of those people, who live to bless others and toss out things nonchalantly (yet with much thought) in the hope that I too can be a bringer of goodness, of love, of friendship and warmth.

Things I have lived for:

A father
A home
My brothers
My grandmother
The beach
My writing
Others welfare and well being
My kids
My husband

Rightly or wrongly, I don't apologise, not yet anyway. It's a pretty good ride. Nothing more nothing less.

Aroha mai.
R x
ps. Recycled photos because my kids have the flu and I ain't going nowhere soon.


ArtPropelled said...

Rachelle your post touches me (as many of your posts have). You ask many of the questions that I ask. I don't think I know where my great great grandparents are buried either and this fact is making me feel slightly uncomfortable. Not sure why. people live on this earth, they die and then they're forgotten. Is it really important to be remembered a few generations down the line? Lots of food for thought here.

Laura Venosa Verbena said...

so glad I stumbled upon your wonderful site.. you are a beautiful writer... xoxo Laura