""I fear oblivion," he said without a moment's pause. "I fear it like the proverbial blind man who's afraid of the dark.""I then wondered about my own fears, which I really haven't done before, at least not in a long while. coincidentally, these last few weeks have made me realize what some of my biggest fears are, though they are nothing in comparison to Augustus' answer. Though I suppose nothing is.
As you may or may not know, I got a job as a line cook at a restaurant a few weeks back, and I have learned to work the friers. While being absurdly hot to stand next to for hours at a time, that's not the worst thing about them. The first time I worked friers, my hands were so sore, having been pulling baskets of steak fries and other deep fried foods for what seemed like days (probably like 20 minutes, let's be real), twisting my wrists and fingers, practically tossing searing oil covered things this way and that. Some time has now passed, and while I've gotten used to the task, my hands are still sore.
I draw, and I'm proud enough to say that I draw well. I create art with my hands and I love it. But what if I couldn't? What if, God forbid, I lost full use of my hands? Even now as I type, having worked a lot lately and because I've been drawing for the last couple hours, I can tell my hands are tired. If all goes as planned, my body will do it's thing and mis manos will adapt and everything will be fine. Which is what I'm planning on. But in the (hopefully) distant future, I fear for my hands.
Another thing I've thought about before a lot was brought up again at my eye exam last week. My eyes are getting worse and worse, slowly but surely. I've always said I'd rather not be able to see than not be able to hear. No offense to Degas or anybody, but I would much rather listen to my favorite Rilo Kiley songs and my full vinyl collection of Beethoven symphonies than see, if given an ultimatum-like choice.
I went to get glasses today and the gentleman helping me was quite surprised at the strength of my prescription. If I'm not wearing some sort of corrective lens I am essentially blind. There's no way I could drive, and even taking a leisurely walk might be considered borderline dangerous. I don't want to not see, but I know what it feels like. I do not ever take my sight for granted, I'll tell you what.
Also, my lungs. But I'm not the only person in this world with asthma so I'm sure I'll get over it. But make sure y'all remember once and a while how nice it is to breathe easy.
I do not fear oblivion, for it is most likely inevitable. I fear physical disabilities more than eventual, and even obviously inevitable, death. I don't mind public speaking either. I feel a haunting cold every time I think seriously about these things, so I try to keep my mind off of them by doing what I love most: drawing and seeing.
I don't have cancer. I'm not blind. I can deal with sore hands. I don't always remember to be thankful and grateful for everything I have, even though I am, always. Even if I wasn't it wouldn't matter, I'd still be here taking things for granted. Don't feel like a horrible person because you don't daily acknowledge the fact that you can breathe better than someone else. I know I am blessed with so many great things in life, and knowing is enough for me. If there comes a time for me to fear things rationally, perhaps then I will be more noticeably thankful more frequently. For now, though, I will just irrationally fear once in a while.
"I looked over at Augustus Waters, who looked back at me. You could almost see through his eyes they were so blue. "There will come a time," I said, "when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you. Everything that we did and built and wrote and thought and discovered will be forgotten and all of this"—I gestured encompassingly—"will have been for naught. Maybe that time is coming soon and maybe it is millions of years away, but even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever. There was time before organisms experienced consciousness, and there will be time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that's what everyone else does.""
Clever title, no? I thought so.
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