Jul. 07, 2002 - 22:05 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Ava in her From The Edge for July 7, 02 forced me to contemplate on things a bit. In part she said, "What she is doing is not really living, just being."

How often in my adult life have I done just that very thing. "Just Being," those days, weeks, months and years of placing one foot in front of the other, doing my job mechanically - no thought needed really. Coasting, "Just Being." Working a hated job to pay the rent and buy groceries with little chance to better myself jobwise and no funds to further my education. Sleeping, eating, working, eating again and sleeping -- all seemingly by rote, mechanically, a sodden plodding way of life that sucked me in and mired me down. My fault ? Mostly. Who else could I blame ? A pathetic, apathetic robot. Misery level not sufficiently suffocating enough yet to force me to fight for a change, another job, higher pay. "Just Being."

During those times I read little, nor did I do much of anything, really. Sometimes working two jobs and the other third of my day was cut between sleep and travel to and from job. In the mire of existence, not much in sight ahead and the past had vanished. Going through the motions, doing lip service to productive effort.

The mental fog worsening, Just Being. Having that one drink, that last one consciously, before the descent into the miasma of alcoholism.

During that time, Just Being was on automatic.

Intervention put me in a place where I was dried out and encouraged to once again thoughtfully try for, 'living,' once again, paying real attention to the people trying to help me. Gradually earning privileges such as going down to the dining room to eat, and glory be, a trip by myself down town to the public library and back -- alone !

After while coming to the realization that I had not been living, just milling around. Filling a slot, drawing a paycheck because I had actually been working. Nodding off at home on my days off due to fatigue of the two job bit.

Was I rancorous ? Not really, just doing the job, sunk below the level of realizing boredom, Just Being.

But put in the facility I was, with help I began to realize that once again I wanted to live and that what I had been doing was not living by a dam sight, Just Being.

So to me, "Just Being," is somewhat like treading water blindfolded not really realizing that the energy to do so is failing.

Thanks Ava for providing the incentive to partake of food For Thought . . . . . .

Blog