Cleaning out the attic
So, I spent a couple hours today working on cleaning out our attic. Which, let me tell you, is no small task. After my grandfather died we went through all of his stuff and everything that we wanted we packed up and brought back home. Now all of those boxes are sitting in the attic and they are what lies between me and a clean, beautiful library/dance floor.
(Well, those and all the the crap my parents have up there, too. But the boxes and boxes of my legos aren't crap. Neither are the Star Wars figures. Or my books. Anyway...)
Today I started the task of organizing. So, I would go through a box, and put its contents into different piles. Pictures go in one place. Old Stamps in another. Files and papers in another. Pristine fur coat in random pile. Along with Samurai sword and Petrified wood book ends. You know, the stuff that accumulated over a lifetime.
And all I can think about is the fact that I am sifting through someone's life. Neatly dissecting and classifying it till it isn't his anymore. Or it is still his, but this is all that is left of him. I am standing in a room filled with what is left of my grandfather.
And it depresses the hell out of me. Is this what I am going to be after I am gone? A pile of old photos and some trinkets? Or I guess I should say, a couple of hard drives and a bobble-head that sort of resembles me?
There are pictures of great-grandparents and great-relatives. And I am not interested in them at all. I don't know what their names are. And I don't want to. All I think is, Oh, another photo of someone I don't know. (Is that cold?)
I know that this is the most cliché thing ever. To question ones life while going through the things left behind from someone else. But I guess it is cliché because how can you not feel this way?
I don't want my life to fit in a room, in a bunch of boxes, to be so easily cast aside.
I was talking to Omer about something similar a long time ago. And though, we were talking about it in the context of Computer Science, I think it is fitting generally as well. I want to be a part of something. I want to create and I want to change the world. Or another variation: I want to feel like I have made a dent in the collective sub-conscience.
But I can write a thousand posts about it, have a million conversations about it, go to sleep night after night wishing I could do it and I won't be getting anywhere.
The thing that is frustrating about this (aside from the overwhelming sense of helplessness) is that I am certainly not the first person to feel this way. Nor am I the last. I am just another person in a long line of people who are just that. Just people.
But I think I have a solution!
It (of course) isn't to change how I am living my life. It isn't to go out there and do things. It is to change what I expect from life. What I hope for from life. If we really are just a collection of random atoms that are going to disappear (not literally) into the ether once we are gone, then there is no collective sub-conscience. There is no greater meaning. There is nothing to be a part of. There is only me. And the experiences I have everyday. The interactions I have with those in my life. Life isn't about meaning. There is none!
These are thoughts I find incredibly comforting. But I'm not sure they'll actually solve my sleepless nights. Or if that is actually how I feel. I'm not sure if I am making forward progress or moving backwards.
I really do hate posts like this. And I seem to be writing a lot of them lately. But now that I have written it, I see no reason not to post it. I'm not trying to whine. Just trying figure out what it is that I am feeling. And I think you guys might have some good insights.
9 December 2007 05:06am UTC • 721 views • 1 comment
Tagged with death, grandfather, questions, life
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1 comment
The Anonymous Poppy
10 December 2007 12:02am UTC
Wow, there's a lot to talk about here, Benj!
Your large parenthetical comment in the second paragraph started me thinking about how you have so many more books than I do. I think we both want to have similarly impressive libraries by the time we're old, but you've got a much better start. I acquire books more haphazardly, and read less actively then you do, too. But by the time I read the phrase "the stuff that accumulated over a lifetime," it was the prefect description of my own library that I had fast-forwarded in my mind to see myself build. A house full of books that I had thought were worth hanging onto over the course of my life.
It was such a nice picture, imagining my children and grandchildren appreciating the library that I had built and left as a legacy to them. Both a legacy of loving the written word and learning, and also the physical inheritance of the books themselves. So when I got to "And it depresses the hell out of me," I was actually surprised. Leaving things for your family to sift through and appreciate seems great to me. Making a family is, I think, one way of being a part of something very special and very important.
I think I understand your desire to be a part of something. It's a strong desire that I have as well, and one that I've been thinking about a lot lately. At least, it is how I might describe a desire that I have; I don't know if the desire is actually the same, of course. Among other things, I want to be a part of the world, and be a part of it in a positive way. Not just a part of the corporation that I work for, not just a part of my congregation, not just a part of the city I live in or a part of the United States. I want to be a significant presence in the world.
Today in Sunday School, we studied in Revelation chapter 6, and it made me think about this. I have this, like, huge concern about what basically amounts to the presence of war, famine, and pestilence in the world. (Interestingly enough, I'm not so concerned about death. 3 out of 4 horsemen ain't bad, though.) And I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that no matter what I do, it will never amount to any more than a drop of water in the ocean in terms of ending hunger, war, poverty, or disease in the world. They pound it into our heads in grade school: you can change the world. It has been surprisingly difficult to try to convince myself that I can't. I still don't know if I should try.
As far as your solution is concerned, I find your language here very interesting. My big concern in wanting to be a part of the world is that nothing I can do will ever be big enough to make a difference. Like I said, a drop in the ocean. (Although in terms of trying to end world hunger, it seems more like I'm a drop in a cup of water that's being poured into a volcano.) I want to change what I give (more money, more time, more effort, more of myself, etc). You want to "change what I expect from life. What I hope for from life." You want to change what you take. I'm not sure what to make of this, except that I think it's fascinating that we have similar desires and respond to them in opposite ways.