Like the leggo jigsaw man above, I am constructed of so many different influences and ideas, traditions and dreams. I know I cannot find all the pieces, but it is wonderful to discover so many of the influences that fostered their creation along the way. Have you ever forgotten that you read a book until you stumble upon it after many years and suddenly in a flash, you re-experience the lessons learned and the worlds explored? How long since I thought about Ernst Becker's The Denial of Death or Laurie Garrett's The Coming Plague? How profoundly those books affected my worldview at different points in my life? Ernst Becker explores the creative power of the death instinct and how our mortality provides us with the thrust of eros to create a lasting legacy and leave our mark on the world, on our communities, on the ones we love. Rather than allowing death to overwhelm us, it is the starting point of the creative intensity that we need in order to truly engage the challenges and mysteries of this strange existence we call life.
In stark contrast to Becker's spiritual and psychological investigation, Laurie Garrett reveals the threat of newly emerging diseases in a world out of balance. The changing social, economic and environmental conditions of the world have fostered the spread of a plethora of new and terrifying diseases. What a tangible and dynamic shift happened when I picked up this book again because suddenly it no longer applied to my apocalyptic macrocosmic fantasies as it did to the microcosm of my own tenuous life and my coming battle for strength and dignity in the face of Hepatitis C. No longer can I indulge in my dalliances with apocalyptic longings because I know that I love shows like AMC's The Walking Dead and novels like Stephen King's The Stand because they reveal a world gone to hell. If the world has gone to hell, my own personal fears are dwarfed by the macrocosmic reality. If everyone is simply getting up in the morning and going about their lives, then don't I have to do the same and be a worker among workers and not oh so special and terminally unique. It is nice to leave that silliness behind, perhaps not forever, but at least for now.
I do not need the consolation of the apocalypse to get me through the fears of the night. I have real fears to face today, and, although I still love those dark visions, they offer nothing of lasting value beyond entertainment and the occasional jolt. Friedrich Nietzsche famously wrote that the thought of suicide is often a consolation during many a dark night. But suicide and death and destruction are not the thoughts that I need today. Rather, I choose to embrace courage and fortitude and have faith that my creator has laid out a path for me that I shall continue to walk and realize as I discover the wonder of my own authenticity. I mean, let's be honest, I still read the comics and can't wait for Season 2 of The Walking Dead (the highest rated cable show of all-time), but this struggle is about reality and not fantasy. The reality of taking care of myself, the reality of getting better, the reality of following direction with a smile and being willing to change and endure when faced with the blunt truth of necessity.
You write well, and I too love old books and my old comics, but you're being a bit over the top regarding your Hep C. Millions of people have it, don't know it, and live happily ever after - until they die, which everyone does anyway. Don't get all worked up over your Hep C. You could get hit by a truck, or drop dead from God knows what tomorrow and you'll feel like a pretentious ass. Only half kidding. My sister was given six months to live...so she maxed out all her credit cards and screwed every guy possible...and then SHE DIDN'T DIE! Boy, was she pissed off! My Dad had to bail her out. Well, she finally died -- over FORTY YEARS LATER, and NOT from the disease that was supposed to kill her in six months. I was miraculously saved from death twice that I know of in bizarre accidents, then had a heart attack in front of a hospital (no heart damage) -- and then there is a lady I know whom the brain tumor specialists (four of them here in L.A. studying her) whisper that were it not for the crack she smokes, and the butane she has inhaled, she would have been dead long ago! One person's medicine is another's poison. I'll keep readingl;stay alive.
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