Saturday, May 14, 2011
Recently, my daughter's cat died suddenly, unexpectedly. In the morning he was rubbing himself around my legs and vying for his daily rub down, and by evening he was stretched out under the living room sofa table with no life left in him. He was young, only six years. Sad and unbelievable. We had no indication that he was ill, no inkling of death.
How quickly life is lived and then gone. No wonder the ancients were concerned about making a lasting name for themselves. They wanted meaning. They wanted their living to outlast them. They wanted something to live beyond their physical bodies. What is it that remains of them? A name, a record of something done, and the consequences of that doing.
I think about my name. I've had several. I think about what I've done, and some of it bothers me. I think of the consequences, and some of them I don't like. Nevertheless, I want my life to mean something. I'm not that interested in making a name for myself, but I do care about what my life means right now and what consequences are being created in the moment. It matters because evening comes, death arrives, and the pleasantries of morning are gone in a seeming instant.
Posted by Lisa Gonzales-Barnes