Speeding Toward A Surprise Ending
Thinking overly, fantasizing about one’s demise might be considered sick and wrong. We will, however, all meet our demise at some point, so I feel it’s appropriate to consider it from time to time. Unless we can overcome it. And wouldn’t that take a miracle? That could require becoming an Avatar. Maybe it might even be a possibility if we aren’t addicted to, or insistent upon, lugging our current form with us. These are the streams of consciousness one might drift in while, or after, witnessing someone else’s demise. This is a sea of imagination one might bob in when faced with the uncertainties of living. Well, at least it’s an eddy I’ve found myself swirling around in from time to time and more often lately.
And these are also the kinds thoughts one might indulge in while, or after, watching the Nightly News, with it’s sensational tales of death, destruction and endless demise. For instance; consider earthquakes and tsunamis, this weekend’s magnetic super moon pull on the tides and earth and the fluids in our brains, or the unsavory information regarding HAARP, or the lack of potassium iodide on the shelves here the pacific northwest, which we wouldn’t care about except for the nuclear whiffs coming in from Japan, or the economic meltdown, which is itself a rolling blackout for many all over the world, or another troublesome US meddling in the middle east, or say, an uneasy personal medical report or how about a ‘dreaded’ diagnosis. I’m talking thoughts about the kinds of things that can change everything at a moment’s notice.
This is the kind of roiling turmoil that might make contemplating a Thelma & Louise moment attractive unless one over thinks the ending. To contemplate this with any success, you need a car and an ability to embrace a twist of fate or two. And it helps to have a taste for whiskey. If one has a really nice car like I do, then one feels more than just slightly remiss and wasteful in imagining it careening off a cliff. It’s in good shape with low miles and has not taken the road trips that it was meant for at the purchasing. I have been thinking about cliffs I could careen my car off without scratching it on the way down. They’re difficult to find in everyday life. Then there is the issue of the messy and irresponsible carbon footprint of toxic fluids, plastic and metal left in the wreckage at the bottom of the crevasse, not to mention bits of re-usable body parts and spilled plasma. How could I have anything but remorse about leaving a premeditated ecological anti-ideological legacy like that in my wake? I can’t.
Still, I like the idea of deciding when and how I might say adios y hasta luego in my own chosen moment rather than some scenarios that I have intimately witnessed in recent times and still others that cross my mind when I watch CNN. It’s not that I think about all this very often. But sometimes I do. Sometimes I like to. I’ve always been partial to freedom of choice.
I may be more of a Thelma than a Louise, but I have lived a little Louise as well and am not remotely interested in that again. So what would Thelma do if she’d had more enlightenment, more concern for the common global good, and still planned to careen toward her demise with panache? Channeling Thelma, weaving certain aspects of her thought processes into mine, provides me with another context in which to give this strange Life and also it’s demise, a fresh look-over. How does Life’s demise look from this beautiful interesting and awkward angle?
Well, because of the issues of the nice car and it’s viable re-sale value, the carbon imprint nuisance, the bit of enlightenment and the issues around the common global good I possess and must contend with, coupled with the fact that I’m not partial to Wild Turkey, I have decided to abandon my Thelma and Louise option of demise and turn my attention instead toward The Never Ending Story. Once over a cliff, it’s over. Questing, activism and mysteries, even if apocalyptic, appeal to me more.
I may have been fortunate to have inherited a flair for optimism, fascination and amusement from that man who thought he couldn’t die but did, Jack Wood. Of course, he loved whisky. And cars. Driving them fast. Plus he scoffed at the virtues of organics or the importance of recycling, so I doubt leaving a carbon imprint would have bothered him much. He lived large but in the end, boxed himself into a corner in front of a giant TV screen, unable to get to his car, abandoned in the garage. He didn’t leave himself much option to choose his ultimate demise. But then I guess one way or another, we are all speeding toward a surprise ending.