Aging

Ash In the Wind

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What are your thoughts on the concept of living a very long life? For me, it all depends on the context: are we discussing living for thousands of years like a vampire, or are we discussing downloading a consciousness into an artificial new body, or are we contemplating a normal human life stretched to its limits? It makes a difference; they are all very distinctive states of being.

Firstly, I envision the life of a vampire, living for hundreds or perhaps thousands of years in the darkest corners of the world. Being a vampire, I could travel like the wind, my fear of monsters gone. I’d become popular; cultivating more companions would be as simple as dispensing several affectionate nibbles. Generous victims would provide more than adequate blood and pocket money, and my mood swings would evaporate under the emotionless state of vampire etiquette. Eventually, though, due to the carnage I leave behind, vampire hunters would pursue me. I envision myself chased into hiding, whereupon the heroic hunters ferret out my lair and expose me to full sun. I evaporate; ash in the wind. Not a damn good deed done in my name. No, the vampire life is not for me.

So, the second option of a very long life might be to transfer my consciousness into a lab-grown body or robotic host. Death would become extinct. Granted, it might be exciting for the first few hundred years to do everything I ever wanted to do because I had no time restrictions, but on the other hand, wouldn’t it all become mundane after a few hundred years? Much of our drive and dedication comes from knowing we have a limited amount of time on this glorious planet. And what about people’s ability to have children? Do you think once the planet is infested with billions of artificial immortals that children would even be allowed? Unlikely. Suddenly, this is not my idea of a utopia, this sounds more like a perversion of humanity.

Lastly, I consider the length of a natural human life. As children, it seems long; as adults, it seems short. Our lives are limited by time. We often set a rapid pace, trying to fit in as many things as we can into our day. The older we are, the more precious and valuable our moments become. Many elderly find themselves unwell in heart, body, or mind, yet others find themselves getting along just fine. Aging is an individual process. My husband’s grandma turned one hundred years old last February, and she went skydiving to celebrate. She is doing it again this year. My aunt, who is elderly, swims most mornings, plays bridge twice a week, reads a couple of books a week, sews lap quilts for a charity, has the best sense of humor, and can still weed a garlic patch with the best of them. So, what are my thoughts on the concept of living a very long life? It depends on the individual’s desire. Who am I to say anything else.

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What are your thoughts on the concept of living a very long life?
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An Unexpected Gift

/ debbyproulx / 9 Comments

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So, here I am, another year into my life and literally halfway or more into the grave. It’s been fifty-four glorious years since I had my first slap on the rump to make me wail. Five years after that, I received another slap on the rump, but that had nothing to do with my mom’s vagina and had more to do with my poor attitude. And then many years beyond that— Hmmm, nope, nevermind, we aren’t going to talk about any of the other rump slapping episodes because nobody really wants to know.

Yesterday began as an uneventful birthday. I didn’t have a dance pencilled in with the tribes of Pygmy’s in the Congo, or a swim with the sharks in Fiji. But, to be fair, I did eat a banana split for breakfast with mountains of whipped cream and a big fat olive on top. I even ate it before I created my first poop emoji of the day. So, there it was, a big green glistening vegetable atop of some cream, and then it was gone in a crushing moment of daring. And… since no one else was there to say it, “Congratulations to me.” Eating olives and ice cream took a special kind of courage. 

Fast forward midday into my birthday and you would have found me writing and alternately taking the dogs out to poop and pee. I was on my own for the next few days, Rick, my hubby had gone to work and wouldn’t be back. The day was mine. What to do? Besides writing and finding excuses to not write, I mean, well, it was my birthday. Shouldn’t I do something extravagant? 

“Ping,” said my phone as though answering my question in the form of a text. It was my daughter letting me know that Julie, my granddaughter, was sick and needed to stay home from school. My daughter Megan didn’t ask me to come and help. Yet, as I eyed the text, the hamster wheel inside my brain creaked to life, and as it spun my grey-haired old rodent squeaked, “Emma has dance tonight, you should offer to spend time with Julie, so Megan doesn’t have to bring a sick kid to dance or have Emma miss dance class.” And so a few hours later, I was snuggled up to Julie on the couch while her mom and her sister, Emma were away fulfilling dreams of a future hip hop star. After all, Emma is three, and at that age, dreams still have plenty of potentials to manifest. Gotta keep the dreams alive. 

Fortunately for me, probably due to the cosmic fact it was my birthday, Julie’s continuous puking had ceased and desisted. The magical powers of youth prevailed, and she recovered. I considered this a grand boon and a wonderful birthday gift. My distress over my lack of opportunity to dance with Pygmy’s and swim with sharks had gone. Before long at Julie’s insistence, we had left the couch and made a blanket fort under the dining room table. Soon we found ourselves colouring harlequin masterpieces by the mystical light of a flashlight. As we huddled together under the ancient wooden piece of furniture, I looked up and banged my head. Warm memories flooded my heart as I recalled  playing in amongst all the nooks and crannies of this smoothly polished table. Many years ago, I too had lounged under this table as I played with barbies and hid out with colouring books. This table was part of our family history, it had been my grandparents, and then my parents, and it was now my daughter’s. My grandparents and parents were gone now, moved on to wherever bright spirits go. And now, by a twist of fate, I sat in the shadows of the past making new memories with a cherished young one.  The circle of life continues and my birthday blessing complete.