I was reading this ezine and had an idea for a letter to the editor, but I waited long enough to forget even the idea that a moment ago was searing my mind with promise of pleasant pertinence; upon returning, the thought was gone. Oh, I could approximate it, but not quite.. . not quite put it in the same succinct words or context that sent my mind whirling into action while I did something else.
I used to brag (to myself) that I could multi-task. Has a few years under the ears helped me lose that ability?
Consider the plight of man: he can enjoy but this moment and no more in its current form, feeling, and format.
Each moment we dawdle, we lose essence…The essence of what we thought, heard, read, felt–just moments before…when a bigger thought entered and there was no pen and paper. Thoughts, like people, fly in and out and around us. Like us, they are here today and gone tomorrow.
Not only do we go away, but before that we change. There is no going home…
Home changes hourly, daily–and all in it must change and disappear. Examine the walls of the house in which you live, with the largest magnifying glass known to man. What you will see is this: matter changing, deteriorating; electrons, neutrons and protons fighting with one another but never standing still, constantly spinning, spinning out of control, becoming invisible, unrecognizable streams of heat.
The only certainty is that this house, even this body, changes so fast that we scarcely notice. All the cells in our corpus or body change or are replaced every three years. And we emerge a new person–for better or worse. Same thing with worlds–they wear out, burn up. There is no permanency, no stasis. Permanency is for fools who love mediocrity and can’t stand the thought of getting out of bed in the morning for fear of a building toppling over on them; or a speeding bus, boat, cycle, or truck knocking them down in a crosswalk. Boat? Not sure on that one.
We should hang a sign on us:”Used Body For Hire, 1936 model human with a couple million miles left to travel, twenty million on the odometer. Unfortunately, old human bodies are not valued as highly as old cars which we call classics or antiques. Asian families value their elders, almost worship them. They take care of them. Here in America we sometimes find them a nuisance. Pitty us and what a shame.
But old autos are another story. We value them highly. We redo everything– the wiring, mechanical, seats and headliner, dashboard, and panels; then we give her a new paint job which we preserve with plenty of coats of lacquer or a spirit varnish to deepen the colors. Then we garage the antique and bring her out to show her off and drive sparingly, holiday driving only, just to show her off. Not true with us antique people. We’re like junk when we slip and fall at 60-90 because it’s hard to recover at those ages. hard to get someone to help us, except those exceptional wives and daughters who really care.
Would not our creator, our Father in Heaven, have made allowances for us humans? He says the age of a man is 72, but what about those of us who grow older, much older, than that? Maybe 90? Or 100? I hope to some day if I can still motate. Would he not have provided a junk dealer who could make something special out of our detritus when we are stacked atop the human junk pile and left to rust away to a nothingness none wants to admit? A loving father must surely have made provisions for a way out of our dark hole of decay and forgetfulness that looms heavily over us like an unrelenting monster we can’t escape.
I believe God did and this dealer in old people is called Jesus Christ. In his atonement, he made it possible for us someday to come back to life in shiny-new bodies that don’t need rest or food, bodies that can go 24/7 without rest and without ever wearing out like that old jalopy we keep in the garage.