Ending Perceptivity Benignly

The anodyne effect of anachronism in Life’s end-game
Inspired by Archie’s intriguing poem “Broken”.

 

As far as my own story is concerned, for a long time during
post-war global inertia, living abroad felt like an extended semester.
With only a cosmetic influx of foreign presence, one enjoyed a
reciprocal accommodation of cultures, there was a genuine mutual
curiosity; one could exchange, and accept or reject, metapsychological
ideas without fear of losing one’s identity, or friendships.
Then came the new era of global mass-movement and everything
changed.
Being a foreigner in a European country, it was the underlying
Anglo-Saxon resentment, an historical, residual Continental thing,
which, in contrast to the shallow flirt with modern Americanism, that
gradually emerged first. Even then, it came over as a hardly concealable
envy for a past that was too rich and provocative to be ignored by people
struggling to maintain their own feelings of national pride and dignity, an
encouraging boost to one’s sense of origination and worth.
One trusted people less, but it wasn’t unduly disturbing.
 
A dormant longing to return home did though stir within, which grew
with the years, to then manifest as finding oneself as being trapped
in an increasingly restrictive, self-punishing exile.
 
A lost paradise thought to have once existed in time arose, and was
succoured in memory, dominating more and more daily existential
awareness.
Even while knowing they had irretrievably faded into distant past and
no longer existed in reality, situations in the heart of memory, cherished
personal interactions with significant people at significant locations,
were sought for recollection again, in an attempt to re-establish the
self-image, the identity, one had once felt most content with. That one
was younger then was doubtlessly a contributing factor. But, by then,
one discovers it’s too late for restitution. One must lie in the bed
inactivity and laziness has made!
 
With resignation, the mind succumbs to the inevitable, as conveniently,
with the advancing years, though still anxious about the future of
offsprings, there comes a moment in time when one ceases to care about
one’s own particular destiny or ambitions any more.
One realises then, Nature’s last aid in offering relief with aging without
regret or anxiety, is facilitating an increasingly creeping sense of
anachronism, which, as philosophical thinking slows towards being
frozen and encapsulated in time, finally wins the day. Thus allowing
the world to race on ahead, as one stops planning and slips back
quietly and surely into what seems like the awaiting, welcoming arms
of long dead family members and friends in that most inclusive and
adaptive post-existence situation that encompasses us all, common
oblivion.
These are my own extended thoughts. But if Nature’s anodyne relief,
anachronism, seems to be too benign and nonchalant in your particular
case, try subscribing to supernatural and forward-looking, dynamic
religion for this end-function instead.

 

 

Goth:February:2019 
 

© Gothicman 2019
Views: 3814
critique and comments welcome.

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nobody has ever found the true meaning of life for everybody and everything. we are all stopped by Death in this eternal quest. none of us has accumulated that many experiences to draw a final conclusion while alive.

Whale
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Editing points: ‘struggling to maintain own feelings of national pride and dignity’ – the word ‘their’ before ‘own.’ ‘One must lay in the bed inactivity and laziness has made!’ ‘lie’ not ‘lay’ (The verb is to lie not to lay). This is pretty deep thinking. Please enlarge on why you think philosophical thinking has to slow with age. I found the opposite to be true as, at 83, I find myself more into philosophical thinking than I ever was. I have very little else to do!!! And what do you mean by a creeping sense of anachronism and how does… Read more »

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