I should be happy. I have a good job. It’s true I cracked under stress and blew up at my boss, but that got cleaned up, and now I am an even better employee than before. But I worry. Boy! do I ever! I worry about keeping this job and I worry about my health. I worry about how much more time I have left on this dismal Earth. But in spite of all that, happiness often breaks out within my body and my soul and I am happy. For absolutely no reason whatsoever. That is a blessing. But most of the time I fret. I feel tired and there is never enough time. Everything seems fragile, temporary, and quite uncertain. Most of the time I am in that place where uncertainty reigns.
I can’t seem to relax and just let things be. I have to know what lies ahead and be comforted that it will be alright. My anxiety poisons my experience, and I am often not fully present. I dwell in my fevered imagination, where the silence is filled with an indefinite fear. Sometimes I feel pissed off and I am not clear why. It seriously gets in my way at times, and then I get angry because I am angry, and then I feel sad. I feel empty, misunderstood, and unappreciated. This is how it feels in an uncertain world. This is how it feels when you have an apartment but you no longer have a home. I seek a reassurance that cannot be obtained. Of course Jesus loves me, but this fails to comfort me. I feel abandoned by time. I have gone past my date and grown curdled and sour. I need more time, or even better, I need to stop time altogether and give myself an opportunity to catch up with myself. I am too damn old. What happened? Where was I all this time? Daydreaming about my future while failing to notice when that future arrived? Sounds about right.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my life. I am not always filled with anxiety. Sometimes I am comfortable with uncertainty, or even enjoy it. The risk is intoxicating. When everything is going really well I seem to always find a way to fuck it up. I’m sure this sounds quite familiar to many of my readers. But, still…..Those two words are the words that define where uncertainty reigns. Everything is good, I’m happy, but, still…….
I hate how this uncertainty prevents my truly enjoying the time I have left on this exasperating but fascinating planet. I realize some people turn to alcohol or drugs to silence that constant drumbeat of uncertainty. I try to use sex for that purpose but it only emphasizes the emptiness, and how terribly temporary it all is. All is fleeting, and it is up to us to catch a bit of meaning along the way if we can. Some find solace in religion, politics, or a stamp collection, but I can never commit myself fully, because uncertainty reigns in my soul. Nothing is ever enough, nothing feels truly complete. There is the feeling that something is missing, and I will die before I find it. There is that nagging doubt which always insists that whatever the truth is, this ain’t it. A mistake was made, and I am dealing with the consequences. All of us are. We make the best of it. Sometimes I am depressed over all of this, and other times I am filled with joy in spite of all of my attempts to sabotage my magnificence.
I know that I am bigger than all of this. This malignant tumor of a philosophy whose odor taints my perfect knowledge is like a hobby of mine. I use it to hedge my bets, for I am always suspecting that I may be full of shit. Bliss and Bullshit come full circle and become one. It doesn’t really matter in the end. It is what it is, and becomes a perfect whole. In the end I will be struck dumb by delight and disappear into the night.
Uncertainty reigns and that’s alright. The end will arrive before I have even begun. I won’t be prepared, but then, have I ever been prepared? Life seized me and threw into this mess to make of it what I will. Whatever lies ahead I accept. I know absolutely nothing, I am as fresh as the first atom peeking out from nothingness.