Attachments

At some (unhappy) point in my life, I lacked a sense of purpose. I felt I needed to have something in my life to provide this, and for some reason I then seriously considered having children to 'fill the gap' or void that I felt. I thought that maybe this would give me the purpose I was looking for and give me a reason to get up in the morning.

I cannot imagine that person was me! Ironically, I rediscovered my happiness in my freedom - by being free of (most) attachments, not by creating more of them. And I have never felt better. But how long can I keep this up? At some point most of my friends will be married or at least settled down, or even have children. Will I be this guy who will be alone at 40 (which is better than a 40-year-old virgin in any case! :))? Perhaps. I don't know if I would be sorry for this. Chances are I would still be unable to handle too many commitments, and still unwilling to give up my precious freedom. Time will have to tell.

People tend to make 'permanent' commitments to each other ("I love you 4 evah and evah!"), and I have done so as well. I just don't believe in it anymore. Nothing is permanent, and most everything that is not yet broken will be broken at some point. Especially relationships. And what's even worse is a 'broken' relationship with both members plodding along unhappily instead of searching for happiness elsewhere (and they can certainly find it!). It can be very difficult to break off a relationship you know you are not happy in, especially when you have children. For me that's just another reason not to have them. At least not for a long time.

No, I will stay away from anything too 'permanent' for years to come, I figure. When I was younger I never figured myself for someone who would ever have a fear of commitment, but that only shows how much people can change in only a few short years. Of course, this also means I may go through another radical change (or multiple) in my lifetime, so let me just conclude with: you never know what will happen, so just go with the flow.

Old age II

Eight months ago I wrote that old age terrifies me. Recently I have been thinking about (old) age again. I was thinking how you don't know how old you will get but can only expect at what age you die, and/or at what age you will become so sick or crippled that it will be almost the same as being dead. How do you adjust your life to match these expectations, and this uncertainty? Do you 'spread out' your wishes for life over the better part of 80 years, expecting to reach that age, or do you assume you will die tomorrow and live on the edge? Or something in between? Which leads to the concrete question of how best to live your life.

To me, living each day as if it is your last seems a bit excessive to say the least. Enjoying yourself as much as possible and not loafing about wasting your best years, on the other hand, seems like a good idea. I feel a strong need to do the things I want to do in life in the coming few years, before I possibly die in a freak accident or whatever. As I wrote before, I am afraid that my body will fail me when I am still fairly young. This may happen, I just don't know. I try to take the best possible care of my body in the time I have available for it (exercising, etc.) but still there is the uncertainty. I realised I am living like a man not expecting to live past thirty. Long-term commitments, especially kids, are out of the question. This spring and summer will be dominated by cool outings and activities. Et cetera... What else can I do?

"I am not afraid of death,
but the prospect of a dull life 
frightens me to death."

I can think of nothing worse than planning to do such and such around age X, or postponing activities time and again... and dying before you can do them. What a shame that would be! As illustrated above, the fear of no longer being able to do things that are on my 'wish list' has a huge influence on me. Without this fear I imagine I would be a very different person, perhaps settling down again and taking it easy - spending most of the summer on the balcony or in the garden with a stack of books and not really going anywhere. The idea alone frightens me.

Life is too fragile to be taken for granted, and too beautiful to waste just sitting around.