I have only a few minutes before heading out to work, but I'd like to maybe try to put some of my thoughts and feelings into coherent form before I go, and I know I've already said some of this in earlier posts.
What's the point in life? We live, we (maybe) reproduce, we die. Our reproduction dies. Everyone dies. So, what's the point in living a life only for death? Technically, I think, there is no point. The sole purpose of life is evolution of a species. My psychiatrist told me that, perhaps, a purpose in life, or rather, in doing things in life - being a certain way, is to make the life of future generations a happier journey.
Speaking of life and death, I have somewhat convoluted ideas, and really, it is a mystery what happens afterward. Religious people believe that souls go to a heaven, where everyone is happy and singing and fucking virgins, or what-have-you... atheists says that everything dies when the body dies, that there is nothing remaining of your presence. Some people believe in ghosts. I am open to the idea of free-floating spirits, or presences, if you'd rather. Not technically ghosts, though I'm pretty sure I may have seen one or two in the past. But, you know that feeling you get when you're with someone, and sometimes, suddenly, you feel it again - even though you know that person is gone? And it's not a creepy feeling - it's a happy feeling, or whatever feeling you primarily felt around that person? I'm open to the idea that that persons' free-floating spirit, or whatever you want to call it, is there.
And yeah, it might be silly to even be trying to analyze this. But, a few days after grandma died, I felt her, in my kitchen. Only for a fleeting moment, but it was as if she just popped out from behind the counter bar and said Boo! then laughed and then floated away.
My psychiatrist said that our conversation reminded her of philosophy class.
With all that said, I've really been rethinking my reasons for taking college classes in the effort to get my degree. Grandma was the only person who really cared about, encouraged, or took pride in, my continuing education. I really wanted to graduate before she died... but, things happen, and college is expensive. Besides all of that, I don't feel like I want to go in the direction that my professors want me to go. They want me to focus on literary fiction, which is fine; I can write it, but that's not what I ultimately want to write. I want to write adventure! Exciting stories with imaginative elements, not social commentary hidden inside of a cryptic, unsatisfying book. If I even write at all. And if I do continue writing, I don't need a degree to do so. BUT, I know I'm going to feel unaccomplished if I never get my degree. It'll always be something that I should have done.
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Ben and I went to Lightning in a Bottle this past weekend. It is basically a three-day music festival in Silverado, CA. It sold out at 10,000 people, and everyone brought tents, or RV's, or camped out in their cars. There were yoga classes every day, inspirational (hippie) talks, artists propping canvases against trees and painting, people hula-hooping and dancing all throughout the day. Imagine woodstock in the 60's. That's what it seemed like. Everyone was dressing in loose, flowing clothes, or in steampunk clothes, feathers in the hair, feather hairdresses or hats, chaps, costumes, topless, and nearly everyone on some kind of drug, or three - myself no exception, and it wasn't pot.
While I didn't feel the whole 'connecting with the earth' and completeness and sense of wholeness that other people were talking about, I do feel more connected with myself that I have in a long while. Which is how I'm writing this post, and becoming quite wordy in the process. I had been considering dropping completely off the face of the internet, cutting ties with many people completely, and was generally depressed. I still am, to some degree, but it's better now.
