You know in that movie "Groundhog Day", the main character very obviously wakes up in the same day over and over again, and over and over again, until he gets it "right". But, we do the same thing. Every day, we wake up on day 1 of the rest of our lives. And every day, we get one day closer to not waking up, or waking up in a very different "life" than the one we currently know, if such a thing exists at all.
Sure, this is also, theoretically, day 10, or day 100, or day 10,000. But, can you "prove" that those past days even existed as you think that they did? There is pretty compelling research evidence that we don't remember past events with any accuracy at all. So, each day, what happened before is truly gone, transformed into a story that we tell ourselves about it, an electronic figment floating around in our synapses somewhere. And do we have a future? Who knows? To me, it is wise that in the Arabic language it is the habit to never speak of the future without adding "in shah Allah", which means "God willing". Because, how much future do you have? You don't know. And I don't know. Life is truly a terminal disease and we really don't know how long we have to live. If you actually acquire a terminal disease that is commonly recognized as deadly within a certain time frame, people will pity you, as if you had less time to live than they do - the ultimate arrogance.
When I was a child, I used to visit the hospice with my great grandmother, to comfort the people who were dying. We read to them, and talked to them, and sang to them. We gave foot massages and adjusted covers, brought water and food, and held their hands. It was always interesting to me that they were not more distressed, overall. Of course, from my child's perspective, I could not realize that many, perhaps most, were heavily sedated, and others were simply at peace with their situation. And peace was really the state of the hospice. Looking back, I would have expected more fear, horror, distress, sadness, or general angst. And, some people did cry sometimes. But, it was not always with sadness. And it was only occasionally with a little fear, or loneliness. It was not with agony, except occasionally in the cases of some deep regret. And that was generally even gentle there. That was a place of acceptance. I looked into the eyes of those people who accepted that they were dying, as a child who did not accept that I also was, and I saw love, and kindness, and compassion. They, who finally understood the nature of human life, perhaps for the first time in their lives, they had compassion for me who did not.
On the other end, I've rarely seen babies come into the world peacefully, accepting, and stay peaceful and accepting for long. Babies do a lot of screaming, and writhing in agony. It is funny to me, even, that so many people see the miracle of birth as a joyous and celebratory ritual while they view death as the reverse.
And the rest of us live somewhere in between, of course, having already suffered through birth and living somewhere along in the process of dying. There are people who completely "live for the day", recklessly pursuing pleasure and adventure and whatever feels good for the moment, completely clear that it might be the last moment. Then there are the people who live on the other extreme, taking no risks and slavishly preparing for a future that they expect to occur.
I live somewhere in middle of the extremes, like most of us do, I imagine, planning some for an expected future while simultaneously enjoying some moments in the now. I think that I lean more towards the "now", though, since I seem to have a higher-than-average comfort level with sacrificing the building of long-term financial security in favor of short-term goals. I have done the same thing with relationships, tending to want to appreciate good ones that I find in the now instead of dropping them in favor of spending the time looking for something "lasting". Even in my career life, I have been able to complete some advanced education, and progress up the professional ladder in several different areas, but there is no long-term planning associated with it. I drift on the tide. There is that part of me that keeps saying "but you don't even know if you will be alive tomorrow, much less next year or next decade" that makes it hard for me to sacrifice the now for the unknown future. Yet, I'm tired of being alone in life, without a life partner. And, financial security certainly makes it easier to run with the "now" in many instances. So, it clearly seems time to confront my attachment to the "now" and how that limits my ability to think in terms of long-term partnership and financial planning well.
It is the "edge" of a relationship for me - that thorny and unpleasant zone, fraught with peril, wherein my significant other and I have decided that we must part ways because we have no future together and both of us want a future with someone, but where we still struggle with wanting to see each other because we don't really want to let go of the joy of what we have. We get along great together and adore each other and he is, by far, the best partner that I've ever had. But, we now live 2000 miles apart and can't afford to even visit each other regularly. Plus, neither one of us is looking for a long-distance relationship anyway. He could choose to leave his current life and build a future with me 2000 miles away. But, I cannot leave my current life, because it involves children that I would have to abandon, and so the choice lies with him. Well, I could choose to abandon my children, but I won't. So, neither of us will leave our lives for the other. And, since he is not in a position where he would have to abandon his children, and he was planning to change jobs for something else anyway, and he prefers a warm climate, where I already live, I am forced to confront the reality that he is "just not that into me", as the book says. Because, he doesn't realy have that much to leave in his current life that he even cares about. He is mostly bored, admits he is in a rut, and accepts that he is attached to his comfort zone and not much else.
Like with most relationships of the sort, I believed that he was "into me", but now I realize that he is not, not really. Like most men, he just wanted a "comfortable" woman, who would fit neatly into his existing life, and give him some emotional and physical comfort without shaking things up too much. He isn't really looking to build a life with a partner at this point, not one that would require him to really commit outside his comfort zone, anyway. Right now, the cocoon that he has built for himself is far more important to him than any life that we can build together. I'm just not "home" to him. He doesn't love me like that. And, in his current state of risk-avoidance, he might not even be capable of that. So, in that cruel zone of relationship transition, I sit on the usual sharp and painful fence, desperately wanting to jump off into the "free" zone and run like Hell, while simultaneously pulled by the comfort of the known zone, the great "almost right" feeling of a great relationship that brought me a lot of comfort and security. It is so hard, as always, to let go of that pole in the ground, though it is a narrow pole and lacking any real stability, to be swept off into the current of the unknown. The unknown always makes us feel like we forgot how to swim.
But, I didn't forget. I can swim. Actually, I can even swim well. Of all the people I know, I'm probably the best at dealing with the unknown because of my attachment to the "now" anyway. So, I'm jumping off into the free zone this time and running like Hell. I'm letting go of the pole, finding my stride in the current, and not looking back. I think that if I want to build a future, I first have to believe in it. So, first stop in this flood, on this 1st day of the rest of my life, is "the belief zone", where I start to believe that I have a future. It will be a different "now" for me, a "now" that is comfortable with a little more short-term sacrifice for long-term happiness. And, I'm starting to see already that it is not "sacrifice" at all - really just a view from the other side, a side that turns out to have solidly built docks and even lake houses, not just poles.
