Death

There was a time when I truly believed I would never die. I understood that most people in their young years, full of energy and confidence, believe the same thing. However, my conviction seemed to me somehow different, as if it was supported by an intangible force that surrounded and protected me at every action, every situation I found myself in. I truly believed that, although I could be hurt or injured, no matter the severity of the injury, I would survive it and recover fully.

As I grew older and contemplated my life, my view on my mortality changed. I began to see my life through the eyes, not of an idealistic, hopeless romantic dreamer, but a practical young man taking my first real steps into adulthood and responsibility. The inevitability of my death started dawning in my mind, and I was curiously fine with it. At that point, I still believed that I could go head-to-head with a truck and emerge the winner, but I realized that I would not live forever. The fair number of funerals I had already attended by that point reinforced that realization.
One thing I need to point out is that there has always been a duality in me when it comes to death. Though I had all these convictions I just talked about, a part of me was open to the notion of death, and I welcomed it. In fact, for reasons I do not wish to talk about at this point, there have been times in my life when I preferred it. Furthermore, although I was convinced I would live forever, I never really cared if I ended up dying. To me death was like a big dog – scared of it but wanting to play with it at the same time.

Then I became a dad. Parenthood is truly a life-changing event, which cannot be understood unless you experience it. Apart from realizing that everything I preach about, everything I believe I must now put into practice and focus it on this little human being, I now find myself fearing death. My confidence and my fearless approach to life and death have now all been put to question by the existence of my daughter. The disregard I have been showing towards my life has been replaced by an almost panicky vigilance because of the fact that I now have to nurture, protect and raise this little miracle.

The invincible man who looked at death and welcomed it now is afraid of dying. Maybe this is the true beginning of the contemplation of my mortality.

Sharing

As a younger man, I wrote much poetry that nobody has read. It wasn't for anyone, really. It was my way of having a conversation with myself without seeming crazy. I haven't touched a pen in years though, and a few days ago I found my old notebooks and browsed through them.

Each page brought back specific and vivid memories about friends and family, as well as various events throughout my life. Looking through the pages, I started to realize how irrelevant some of the notes and poems I wrote are to me today. Reading my notes made me question some actions and the motives behind them from my past that at the time seemed proper. I was somewhat surprised to find myself not wanting to read some of the things I wrote only a few years ago. In fact, I'm sure that I would not consider a loss had some of the things which took me days to write were destroyed.

I decided to go through my old works because recently I started questioning whether I have lost touch with who I used to be, as some people believe and told me so recently. Apparently I'm not the same, because I don't share my thoughts with them, or I keep my quiet around them. After thinking about it, I don't believe I've lost touch with who I am or who I want to be. I submit that I have changed, but only in the sense that I have matured and am a little calmer and level-headed than before. Hopefully I'm a little smarter too. I might have decided to keep some aspects of myself more private. Just because I no longer readily share my deepest thoughts and feelings with people does not mean that I have somehow become shallow. I simply have narrowed my list of people that I'd let into my inner world. It's not that I have less trust in people. Rather, I know who I can trust, and who can be a good counselor and guide to me. Oftentimes, even though I know I can trust certain people, their lack of maturity or understanding of certain issues and ideas makes me feel like trusting them with my thoughts and problems will most likely be an exercise in futility. I'm not saying they're stupid. I simply feel like they have little substantial to offer me spiritually or mentally in certain subjects.

Another reason I do not share many of my thoughts and issues with others is that I've always enjoyed being a loner. I always reached out to people for advice only after I had totally pondered and digested my problems in my own head. Sometimes I even enjoy keeping my thoughts to myself and enjoying them alone. That's not selfish - they're my thoughts I can do whatever I want with them.

People shouldn't be bothered by that. I don't expect to know everything that happens in my friends' lives, no matter how close they are to me. Anyone who is more eager to know about other people's problems instead of concentrating on their own issues and hurdles in life simply doesn't have his or her priorities straight.

Don't Tell Me You Love Me

People can be very closed minded and judgmental, so much that they don't even realize how their behaviour affects others around them. They profess love towards others but in the same breath accuse, criticize and condemn those same people whom they apparently love.

Is this how superficial love has become for us? Have we lost the capacity or will to at least make the effort to understand the weight of the phrase "I love you?" We seem to throw that word around carelessly. We love everything and everyone as long as we are the center of attention. We have gone from a society or community to individuals who think nothing of others and everything of ourselves. There is a difference between the individual and the person. An individual stands alone in his own individuality of morals, ideals, beliefs and existence. A person is someone who shares himself with someone else. To say "I love you" is to share yourself with that person, as well as acknowledge the existence of the other person. To declare "I love you" without allowing the other person the same existential validity we please ourselves with makes that phrase a lie and us the liars that utter it.

Sad but true

I am really tired and frustrated, with myself and with others. Sadly, if I had something substantial to fall back on, I'd probably leave what I'm doing now, or at least take a very long break.

Parenthood

The other day we had an appointment with the midwife. Everything is going well with the pregnancy and we are right on track. The coolest thing was listening to the baby's heartbeat for the first time. While I was listening to the heartbeat, for the first time in a long time my life's path and purpose was clear before me. It was one of the greatest moments of my life, as well as the scariest. My life has been directly threatened many times before, but the terror of those moments cannot compare to the subtle, dull, steadily growing fear brought on by the realization I'm getting closer to becoming a father. The responsibility of another life is quietly but quickly dawning on me. I can barely run my own life sometimes, how am I going to care for a child who can't take care of itself? At the same time, we are both very excited about this pregnancy. The range of emotions I am feeling about this is something new to me. I usually feel one way or another about something. Parenthood has thrown me into a loop. It's definitely an exciting time, filled with a lot of soul-searching and preparations.

On a side-note, I'm calling it from now: It will be a girl, born on February 8, either late morning or afternoon. I know these things.

restless

creeks and groans of the house
pull me out of my sleep
my heart races
adrenaline pumps into my muscles
the idea of a thief fills me with panic
the flashlight next to the bed in my hand
I search the house and find nothing
i calm down and write these lines
why am i so paranoid
is that a rat running down my driveway
another restless night
end this
free me from the paranoia and fear

On a rainy night

the rain falls on the driveway
puddles draining as the constantly fill
drops splash on the living room window
connect the dots with my eyes
each drop a memory
of another living room
another land
another life
a child watching the rain
wash the town and fill the lake
calmness making love to sadness
escape is born
it is longed for tonight
years later
in front of a strange window
in a foreign land
the world is wet and cold
and anxious