Thursday, November 26, 2015
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
One Year Ago Today
There are happy anniversaries for things such as weddings and birthdays, and there are sad anniversaries such as the passing of a loved one or a large, national tragedy. Then there are those anniversaries that land somewhere the wide spectrum in the middle. I'm having one of those anniversaries today.
One year ago today I died and was resuscitated from a cardiac arrest. Since then I've had a defibrillator/pace maker installed, have learned the ritual of procuring and taking medications that I'll need for the rest of my life, have been battling depression, and have been forced to confront what my life means to those around me and to myself.
I'm far from resolving most of those issues. One year, the arbitrary amount of time it takes for our habitable, little rock to finish one lap around its star, shares significance with that moment when the digits of your car's odometer hit some memorable number. In other words, very little real significance at all. However, as pattern finding machines, our human brains can't help but attach significance to these kinds of moments. It's a moment to reflect, if nothing else. Not shockingly to those who know me, I dived into the pool of reflection long ago and have been treading water for a while now.
I wish I could share with you a collection profound insights and life lessons learned from my experiences in the aftermath of such a shocking event. I wish I could relay stories of a near death experience where a Christian, a Jew, a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Sikh, and an Atheist were all holding hands and singing Kumbaya. Sorry, no such luck. It all just went black. Not only did I not see the legendary tunnel of light, I don't even remember what happened for three days. It's all just a big nothing.
Hmmm... three days. The time is takes for the new moon to reappear after being overtaken by the sun. The number of days various religious have noted as the time a prophet of significance disappeared from the Earth and returned in some form or fashion. For those who are poised to push the "Messiah Complex" button, don't worry. I don't possess even a shred of the certainty necessary to travel down that path. My path is not common, but it's not unique. I didn't see the other side, if there is one. We can argue about the meaning of that experience, but I can only operate off of the what I have (and haven't) seen.
This life, in all likelihood, is it. I can cobble together some notions using Relativity and the nature of human consciousness to hypothesize a universe where we relive our lives from the same starting point over and over again. It gets even more beguiling when I spice that construct with idea of the multiverse and the possibility of living out every single permutation that my life could hold. Trillions of lives where I make this choice or that and experience the cascade effect of those decisions in unique life after unique life. It's a kind of reincarnation without the worry of coming back as a tapeworm because I fell on the red side of the ledger in some supernatural accounting system. Who knows? Nobody does. If somebody claims they do, then they are either deluded or lying to you and more likely themselves. We all embrace the delusions necessary to rationalize our beliefs and actions.
Therefore, I muddle forward. It's the only direction available to me. It's the only direction available to any of us. We exist linearly in time. I've been granted more time by the good fortune of a wife who refused to let me die when my heart lost its rhythm. From that I learned about myself, my body, and those beings in my life. That's all I can hope to continue to do: keep learning. I doubt I'll find all the answers, and I strongly suspect I won't like some of the answers that I do find. Regardless, I still have this life and all that which is in it. By reading this message, you are in it, and for that I am grateful.
With love, be well,
Ken
One year ago today I died and was resuscitated from a cardiac arrest. Since then I've had a defibrillator/pace maker installed, have learned the ritual of procuring and taking medications that I'll need for the rest of my life, have been battling depression, and have been forced to confront what my life means to those around me and to myself.
I'm far from resolving most of those issues. One year, the arbitrary amount of time it takes for our habitable, little rock to finish one lap around its star, shares significance with that moment when the digits of your car's odometer hit some memorable number. In other words, very little real significance at all. However, as pattern finding machines, our human brains can't help but attach significance to these kinds of moments. It's a moment to reflect, if nothing else. Not shockingly to those who know me, I dived into the pool of reflection long ago and have been treading water for a while now.
I wish I could share with you a collection profound insights and life lessons learned from my experiences in the aftermath of such a shocking event. I wish I could relay stories of a near death experience where a Christian, a Jew, a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Sikh, and an Atheist were all holding hands and singing Kumbaya. Sorry, no such luck. It all just went black. Not only did I not see the legendary tunnel of light, I don't even remember what happened for three days. It's all just a big nothing.
Hmmm... three days. The time is takes for the new moon to reappear after being overtaken by the sun. The number of days various religious have noted as the time a prophet of significance disappeared from the Earth and returned in some form or fashion. For those who are poised to push the "Messiah Complex" button, don't worry. I don't possess even a shred of the certainty necessary to travel down that path. My path is not common, but it's not unique. I didn't see the other side, if there is one. We can argue about the meaning of that experience, but I can only operate off of the what I have (and haven't) seen.
This life, in all likelihood, is it. I can cobble together some notions using Relativity and the nature of human consciousness to hypothesize a universe where we relive our lives from the same starting point over and over again. It gets even more beguiling when I spice that construct with idea of the multiverse and the possibility of living out every single permutation that my life could hold. Trillions of lives where I make this choice or that and experience the cascade effect of those decisions in unique life after unique life. It's a kind of reincarnation without the worry of coming back as a tapeworm because I fell on the red side of the ledger in some supernatural accounting system. Who knows? Nobody does. If somebody claims they do, then they are either deluded or lying to you and more likely themselves. We all embrace the delusions necessary to rationalize our beliefs and actions.
Therefore, I muddle forward. It's the only direction available to me. It's the only direction available to any of us. We exist linearly in time. I've been granted more time by the good fortune of a wife who refused to let me die when my heart lost its rhythm. From that I learned about myself, my body, and those beings in my life. That's all I can hope to continue to do: keep learning. I doubt I'll find all the answers, and I strongly suspect I won't like some of the answers that I do find. Regardless, I still have this life and all that which is in it. By reading this message, you are in it, and for that I am grateful.
With love, be well,
Ken
Monday, November 02, 2015
Sunday, November 01, 2015
Happy Halloween
Crystal as Bill Cipher and Karl as Dipper.
Moi as Grunkle Stan.
Later we ran into Borg and McEnroe,
Cheech and Chong,
a couple Oompa Loompas,
and host of Elvises (Elvi?)
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