Editor's note: The original version of this column was published Dec. 6, 2009.
Comedian George Carlin, who died in 2008, reminded us that life isn't measured in the number of breaths we take, rather by the intangible moments that take our breath away.
It's always seemed to me that 60 years of a fulfilling life that created positive differences for those around them were far preferable to 85 years that failed to do so.
I've also reached the point where increasingly funerals are scribbled into those little squares on the monthly calendar. Sadly, the farewells nowadays often are for friends and loved ones who left this world too darned soon.
Those of us left to grieve often wind up pondering what this thing called life is all about. Why does being temporarily aware of our surroundings even matter when it amounts to the same ending for each of us?
Paulette Johnson, 57; Alan Masterson, 63; and most recently Judy Hamilton, 61, were good friends who died in the past 10 months. Each of them left us much too soon, creating profound gaps in the lives of all who cared about them.
And that's exactly how it should be. There should be a whopping hole in our wake when we depart, an indention that rivals the sprawling Mount Judea valley along scenic Arkansas 7. We each should leave a vacuum of relevance that follows our lifetime.
Another way of putting it: Our departure ought to leave an indelible mark for the ones still breathing, rather than a barely discernible scratch.
It's when we stare down to reflect over an empty shell we once knew as a vibrant, bright-eyed companion that this urgency to ensure our own relevance screams loudest.
We can fathom the sobering reality that not a single problem, frustration or worry that the departed person experienced over a lifetime mattered a whit in the final analysis.
Whether they were fighting, arguing, worrying or even smiling, it all led right here, to the same physical conclusion.
Fact is, this body of mine, like your own, began to fade as soon as it filled both lungs with oxygen. For me, it also means that all the distractions I'll experience during life can be comparable to meaningless static. The irrelevant noises interfere with the frequency of my creation beaming from outside the boundaries of space and time, a signal aimed continuously into each individual's consciousness.
Politics and politicians constantly come and go, as do businesses and day-to-day demands. Our own priorities and physical lives constantly change, right? Why, then, would we put our confidence, trust or faith in any of it? What goober builds his home (or life) on ever-shifting sands?
What does this truth ultimately mean for time spent together? To me, it says that while every action we take and each word we utter may seem irrelevant at the moment, that's an illusion. I now believe those aspects of life actually are all that endure in the largest perspective when they are made with eternity in mind.
Those acts include love, caring, justice, giving, forgiving, fairness, kindness, selflessness, joy and truth. That's why every religion values those qualities.
Each of us finds ways to weave and wind through the time we spend here. Many turn to religion in an effort to connect with the signal. I've chosen Christianity. I've also had friends of the Jewish faith. Others over the years have become followers of Hinduism, Buddhism and Islam, all seeking the higher frequency.
But more than organized religion, I'm simply saying I believe what we come to believe and value and honor and represent, as well as the words we choose here and their impact, do endure.
Everyone comes into this difficult and challenging place alone. We exit the same way when our very personal moment of reckoning arrives. So why not ask yourself what you believe and why? Determine what's truly worthy of your conviction and dedication. I know I have.
The metaphysical lesson is to try to hold firm to my beliefs when I'm convinced that they are truthful and right.
Yeah, I know, it's a lot of thought to chew for breakfast, and, hey, it's only my observation after 67 years, which naturally means it could be flawed.
But I'm convinced there's a far deeper purpose to my own relative flash of consciousness (and yours), an eternal phenomenon of awareness which science still cannot explain.
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Mike Masterson's column appears regularly in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at mikemasterson@arkansasonline.com. Read his blog at mikemastersonsmessenger.com.
Editorial on 09/02/2014