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| Quandaries of childhood |
| 06.17.04 (9:11 pm) [edit] |
For me life has always been a quest, a quest for understanding, and a quest for truth. The things that have stuck with and I carry with pride, is not always what I find, but rather the process. Children in my opinion are the most liberated of us all, because the lack paradigms imposed upon them. There understanding of the world around them is so fresh and new it seems to them that almost anything is possible. I cherished my childhood, because of these freedoms. Now I haft to fight for the same right to express my self and challenge the general accepted view that I inherently possessed as a child.
When I was little, maybe five, I denounced the existence of an afterlife. I did this for a simple reason; my grandmother one night while rocking me to sleep in her lap asked if I remembered a time from before I was born. Searching far back in my memory I found a point where there was only darkness and the earliest memory I had from before that was of my self crying, but separated from my self wondering how it was I had ended up as an infant, and pondering why I was crying. This was the first time I had an epiphany, there was a time before me, and in that time I existed only in a void. My reasoning went if there was nothing before I was here then there will probable be nothing when I’m gone. This of course did not go over well with any of the adults in my life, “how could someone so young come up with such a radical idea?” being so young a part of me asked the same question. After a few years I was not as convinced of this as I had once been. The question that I asked my self was simple but devastating to my former philosophy, “How does something come from nothing?” I could not answer this and I was stumped. I finally decided that there most be some higher mechanism at work weather it be god or not, that was simple beyond my present comprehension.
A phrase that I heard when I was young that once I thought of its implications alarmed me was, “when you become a teenager you’ll become a completely different person.” This scared me because if I became a different person doesn’t that mean the person who is me here and now will die in the transfer? And if I died were would I go? Reflecting back on it now, I have to say that I am not that same child who pondered these things, but he still lives deep with in my sub-continence immerging infrequently.
In the fourth grade, while walking out to my schools courtyard, something struck me. It’s something that I still struggle with, and try to grapple with the implications this revolution had. I realized at that moment that not only did I associate colors with my emotions, but with memories, places, people, and things. This wasn’t something new; this was a sub-conscious act that I had been doing for as long as I could remember. Doing some surveying I discovered that I was not alone in this but many of my peers to one extent or another did the same. I soon began to believe that I had finally discovered something that could help to answer my earlier question. It seemed to resonate with truth. My feeling was at the time that this was only a scratch in the surface but it was still a good start.
When I was in the seventh grade I expanded on the fear of dyeing, asking the question, “If I forget a moment then did it ever really exist? If this is so then when I die and all my memories are lost did they exist as well or will they fade to nothing? This prompted me to start a short-lived journal in some hope of preserving my self.
The eighth grade was a time of great growth for me personally, it was the begging of the end for me childhood, and I am who I am now as a result of making it through this part of my life. At this time I had an explosion of interest in philosophy and literature. I read everything that I could get my hands on. I often benchmark my life based upon this time period. I was no longer bounded by the same constraints of thought that I had once been, I found a new level of truth. However I soon was inhabited by new constraints that came externally as opposed to internally.
Life should not be measured in whether you win or not, because in the end we all die. Besides what is winning life? It is very subjective question. Life is meant to be lived. The experience is what counts, this was a very different way of looking at life for me, and it once more drastically changed me. What was it then in life that I desired? What would make it worth living? To be held? To be heard? To know truth and beauty? I concluded that to be heard was not the answer and my fear of death was unfounded because it can be argued that I will exist in every possible combination, and no matter what things will change, and soon I will not be here. Then what am I? I am the experience of the here and now. A record is static if not experienced. Information is a living force that can only exist if it is continual motion. So memories that I forget still happened because I experience them, even if they fade. Nothing will be remembered forever.
Is to know truth and beauty an answer? The pursuit of raising my self to higher moral standards, and having a deeper understanding of truth became a goal I created for myself. I quickly found this to be challenging because I lacked stability in myself. There are very few infallible truths. Perception is reality, a true piece of truth.
As a child I relentless pondered my existence, but I have now accepted it and my focus has changed. What has marked the passing of my childhood for me is my passion changing from finding out why; “I am I here” too finding out, “who I am”.
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posted by: Your Kitten (reply)
post date: 10.31.04 (8:10 pm)
I love you Muffin. You're so brilliant.
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