Impermanent

“Everything arises and passes away” is how the Buddhists put it and, these days, it couldn’t be truer.

No longer is my beloved aftershave, Old Spice, being produced by Proctor and Gamble.

Tillamook Cheese seems to have changed the recipe of my favorite cheese, Extra Sharp White Cheddar, so that instead of being crumbly and sharp, it’s now waxy and bland.

Chrome Bags have discontinued making the Kursk, the shoe I have worn almost daily for probably two decades.

The software on the printers at school has stopped allowing you to customize the paper size when you scan a document, so the pages of books get cut off or are formatted weirdly.

My doctor doesn’t let you ask questions anymore during your annual check-up; you have to schedule a special consultation (and pay extra) for that.

And try to find an 8-speed rear hub for your bike that doesn’t sounds like angry bees when it freewheels; forget about it.

Of course, I should be equanimous about all this and not cling to or crave after what, by its very nature, is ephemeral.  I, too, am only here for a short time, all things considered, so why should I complain when everything else is subject to the same impermanent reality of all things?

But, fuck!  

What am I supposed to do now, after shaving?  How am I going to enjoy my mac n’ cheese anymore?  Do I have to go back to buying Chuck Taylors, even though they hurt my feet and don’t keep me warm and dry in the winter?

It just makes you want to hasten your own inevitable disappearance from this material realm, doesn’t it?  If all the things that make up everyday experience cease to be, why not cease to be oneself?

If I weren’t around to complain about the demise of my aftershave, cheese, shoes, etc., then I wouldn’t have anything to complain about, would I?

And this blog could disappear, as well.

Fortunate

Growing up, I always had a roof over my head and plenty to eat.  I even had my own room!

Neither of my parents were alcoholics and they never beat me, not even once. (Spankings don’t count.)

I had no serious childhood illnesses; the worst part of my healthcare experience was going to the dentist, but I always got a lollipop from him after my check-ups.

My grade school was fully-staffed and well-resourced.  We had gym class every few days; art at least once a week; French in seventh and eighth grade; algebra was painful for a 12 year-old, but better, I guess, than no algebra at all.  

There were bullies, sure, but no guns.

High school was hell, of course, but we read Marx and Mao in 11th grade Political Philosophy and The Great Gatsby and Great Expectations in English.

Rents were low enough and the job market plentiful enough that I was able to move to San Francisco as a 21 year-old and find work and an affordable apartment in less than a week.  There was an earthquake when I lived there, but it was very minor—just enough to spill cans from the shelves in the corner store and provide an excuse for getting drunk that evening.

I’ve never lived in a city that was being bombed.  Nor have I ever been homeless, neither for economic nor geopolitical reasons.

None of my family members have ever been murdered, tortured, or disappeared by the government or drug cartels.  I’ve never been shot, stabbed, tasered, or clobbered with a truncheon by the authorities.

There’s still money left in Social Security for me to start collecting benefits; it may not last through the rest of my life, but I’ve got a handful of years without worry.

I’ll die of something sooner or later, but at the moment, I’m still healthy and not in any significant pain.

It’s not all perfect, though: I am a Pittsburgh Pirates fan.

Responsible

 I do my job.  I pay my taxes.  I pick up my dog’s poop and dispose of it responsibly.  I clean up after myself.  

I wash the dishes.  I try to limit my carbon footprint.  I eat mainly locally-sourced food, all vegetarian.  I vote.  I show up for meetings and participate seriously.  I make the bed and hang up my clothes.  

I keep my yard presentable for the neighbors. I honor my promises and commitments.  I ensure that my bank balance is not overdrawn. 

I scrub the toilets. I don’t drive drunk (I hardly drive at all.)  I stay abreast of the news.  

I answer all my email within 24 hours.  I keep my car registration up to date.  I return my library books before they are due.  I tip well.  

I apologize sincerely when I’ve done something wrong. I reduce, reuse, and recycle. I direct deposit my bills on the day before they are due.  

I pull weeds. 

I show up for my family, friends, and colleagues.  I attend all-day meetings without (much) complaint.  I get my students’ grades in on time.  

I take the e-waste to the e-waste site.  I take the hazardous waste to the hazardous waste site. I get oil changes at a place that disposes of the oil in an environmentally-responsible way.

I offer my seat on a crowded bus to old people and pregnant ladies.  I hold the door open for the person behind me. I take off my shoes in no-shoe houses.

I apologize after I burp.  I sneeze into the crook of my elbow.  I wear a mask if I’m feeling sick.

I exercise, eat right, and get an annual physical check-up.  

I act my age.  

If I borrow something, I put it back where I found it. I wipe the counter after I cook.

I do what’s expected of me and treat others as they would wish to be treated.

I’m a responsible person.

I’m sick of it.

Ask

Advertisement: Ask your doctor about this amazing new drug to treat a condition you didn’t even know you had!

(One day later):

Patient: Say, Doc, I had a question about…

Doc: Please hold for our next available representative.  Due to higher-than-normal call volumes, your wait may be…one hundred…minutes.

(Two hours later):

Doc: We’re sorry, all representatives are currently busy.  Please call back later.  BEEP.

(Three months later, at the office visit):

Patient: Say, Doc, I had a question about…

Doc: I’m sorry, I’m not a doctor; I’m a lab technician.  The doctor will be with you later.

(Fifteen minutes later):

Patient: Say, Doc, I had a question about…

Doc: I’m sorry, I’m not a doctor.  I’m a nurse practitioner.  The doctor is out today.

(Six months later):

Patient: Say, Doc, I had a question about…

Doc: I’m sorry, I can’t answer any questions outside of those related to the annual check-up. You’ll have to schedule another appointment with me to discuss.

(Three months later):

Patient: Say, Doc, I had a question about…

Doc: I’m sorry, I’m not your regular doctor.  They are out of the office today; you’ll have to follow up with them directly.

(Three months later):

Patient: Say, Doc, I had a question about…

Doc: Your regular doctor has tested positive for Covid.  I’m just filling in, so you’ll to schedule another appointment.

(Two months later):

Patient: Say, Doc, I had a question about…

Doc: This letter is to inform you that your regular physician is no longer employed by this health maintenance organization.  Their patients are being transferred to a new physician.  To schedule an appointment, please contact us during regular business hours.

(Three months later):

Patient: Say, Doc, I had a question about…

Doc: Further study has shown that the drug in question has terrible side effects, is carcinogenic, and doesn’t really do what it was advertised to do.

(Two weeks later):

Doc: I’m calling to answer the patient’s questions about…

Patient: Deceased.

 

Predictions

I predict that many of my predictions will be wrong.  And I predict that which ones those will be is unpredictable.

Nevertheless, we can be quite sure that by the middle of the 21st century, the year 2050 will have arrived.

We can also be entirely confident that anyone born today who is still living then will be alive.  Conversely, everyone who has died will be dead.

Forecasting sea-level rise is difficult to be sure.  But one thing we do know is that if the oceans rise by 12 inches, they will also have risen by a foot.

Global warming will only become more severe; that pot of coffee on my stove will continue getting hotter unless I turn off the burner, as well.

Every day that passes will add another 24 hours to everyone’s life, except for those who die during that period; as soon as they stop aging, they won’t get any older.

Two plus two will continue to equal four, although that one young couple who always has to bring their kid everywhere means you need to plan for five.

What happens will happen; whatever is will be what it is; and by the way, I told you so, didn’t I?  You may forget, but I won’t, I can assure you.

The future will always be in the future; the past always in the past, (not including women’s fashion.)  And the present? Well, I’m still waiting for that birthday gift you promised me!

Your favorite sports team will lose some games you wanted them to win; the team you dislike the most will win some they should have lost; every thrilling victory for one side will be accompanied by a heartbreaking defeat for the other.  And your cable bill or streaming cost will keep going up no matter what.

People who talk will keep using their words; babies will be born to their mothers; the final word of this essay be this last one.

Fade

 In the 10-day Vipassana meditation course, we learn Buddha’s observation of the essential, fundamental law of nature: “Everything arises and passes away.”

And once you’ve been introduced to it, you notice it everywhere, from every single sensation on your body, to all living things, to a sundog that appears in the sky, momentarily beautiful before disappearing, to very Universe itself; it’s all ephemeral and ceaselessly changing; nothing lasts forever except the fact that nothing lasts forever.  Everyone who has ever lived will one day be gone; everything that ever was or will be will eventually be no more.

So, I’m in the process of fading away, (as I have been ever since I was born), and frankly, I don’t really mind.  I think I enjoy becoming quieter and smaller; my aspirations to greatness have shrunk commensurately.  I don’t need to feel like I’m making a huge impact; I’m content with less of a splash, leaving the surface a little smoother, with fewer ripples in my wake.

As evidenced by these words if nothing else, I’m not entirely ready to have disappeared; I still think I’ve got something to say, but I’m okay with saying it more softly, and if fewer end up hearing, that’s fine.  I don’t need to shout my message from the rooftops; stage-whispering from back porch is plenty.

In real life, I’m shrinking; as a young man, I was an inch and half taller than I am now.  Seems like an appropriate physical representation of what’s going on figuratively; over the course of the next few decades, I’ll continue to pass away until there’s nothing left of me but the palimpsest of life.  And then that, too, will disappear.

Is this sad?  Perhaps, in a way, but, then, that sadness, too, will also pass away.  Why mourn the fundamental truth of all things?  Nobody cries over the First Law of Thermodynamics, do they? Why shed a tear just because our tears will not last?

Truce

Today, after countless eons of contention, fact and opinion have finally reached a truce.  As quoted from their press conference:

OPINION: Today is a great day in our history together.

FACT: Today is a  day in our history together.

OPINION: Yes, indeed; that’s a fact.

What this means for the rest of us is that we no longer have to worry about whether a claim is objective or subjective.  From this day forward, anything anyone asserts is both.

Astute observers will note that this has been the case in political and public discourse for some time, and many will assert that it’s been this way in aesthetics all along and guess what?  They’re all correct and how couldn’t they be?

This development will, of course, do wonders for domestic tranquility.  If one member of the household says, “It’s cold in here,” no longer will another member have to retort that “As a matter of fact, it isn’t,” because now, as a matter of fact, it’s an opinion, anyway.  How convenient!

And if one party at the table says that the dish is too salty and the other says it’s not salty enough, they’re both right!  Isn’t this wonderful?

Of course, there may be some issues the follow from the truce.  I’m not sure I want to be a passenger on an airplane designed by a team of designers whose calculations aren’t subject to an objective standard, but given the way that it appears companies like Boeing have been operating of late, things might not change all that much, anyway.

Also, if all opinions are facts and vice-versa, then it’s going to be difficult to adjudicate many legal claims and responsibilities; on the other hand, this may go a long way towards mitigating the biasing effect of money upon the proceedings and so might result in better outcomes in the long run.

Some might say “better” is just an opinion; not now, though; it’s a fact, as well.