Depending on when you read this it’s probably either the last day of 2007 or one of the first few days of 2008. In any case: Happy New Year!
Even though the 31st of December and the 1st of January are technically and scientifically pretty much similar to, say, the 27th and the 28th of July, emotionally they differ a lot. The period around the turn of a year always makes people think about the year gone by and the new year to come. Goals, achievements, losses and experiences: our minds are preoccupied with reflecting on our own lives and on those close to us.
During my own personal passing year ponderings, I am frequently amazed by how gradually time goes by and yet how incredibly much happens during only one single year.
Only one year ago I started writing and publishing my columns. The one you’re reading now is number 53. To be honest I don’t even know whether this is the last column of 2007, or the first of 2008. So I guess it’s a bit of both.
There are so many things to remember 2007 by. I let Matt move into my house after only being with him for six months. Many minor and major things, as normal relationships all go through, crushed and built our love. I quit my job and started my own little writing company. Our cat had to undergo surgery in April, I almost forgot already. And a week ago we added a cute tiny kitten to our little family. Time flies. Let alone when I let all those television programmes remind me of the many news items of last year. Time flies indeed.
But on the other hand, a lot of things have stayed the same: same house, same man, same friends, same taste, interests and preferences.
However, the turn of a year doesn’t only involve reflecting on the past twelve months for me. It also always reminds me of the relativity of life. The temporary aspect of something that feels like an eternity. I have no memory or notion of anything else but this life. My entire consciousness depends on it. And yet it will come to an end some day.
My life expectancy is a bit more than 75. But who knows, I might reach 100 or die at 50. This year I celebrated my 25th birthday and became aware of a scary calculation. If I reach 100 I still have 3 times more of the time I’ve used so far. However, I might already have crossed the magic threshold of ‘half time’…
Apparently, I’m not the only one realising every lived year is another year closer to the end. A lot of people try desperately to prove their life hasn’t been for nothing, especially around New Year’s Day and their birthday. They try to live their lives to the fullest possible, maybe even leaving something behind on this earth permanently, like a piece of art or something political or perhaps merely a sad version of 15 minutes of fame.
It’s rather a way of panic behaviour. As if the fact that we realise time is progressing towards our death provokes a certain fear of dying. Thus, we try to live as much as possible, in fear of wasting any time. As if we could possibly forget to actually live while living. What an ironic thought. But the irony doesn’t erase the fear. I know, because I recognise that feeling.
Then I sit back and take a look at our two cats. One of them is fat, dumb and five years old. The other one is just ten weeks, light as a feather and quite bright. There are claims about cats reaching the age of 35 or even 40, but those are extraordinary exceptions. On average a cat can live for 15 up to 20 years. With my 25 years of age I am older than most cats will ever be.
My two cats, I will probably survive both of them. Both of them are now on the sofa, sleeping safely and soundly. They don’t seem to mind their dooming death at all. With pure and uncorrupted ignorance they will live every new day as both the last and the first.
The cats’ gentle purring sooths my initial anxiety about life and time. It’s all so very trivial really.
Similar columns
- Why won’t you get a cat from a shelter?
- The unexpected side effect of the flu
- The Dog vs. Cat battle: the dog defeated?
- Writing into the future
- New Year Resolutions
That’s the thing isnt it? Is it a blessing or a curse that we have been left to roam the planet with the knowledge that we will some day die. And there is nothing we can do about it.
Ignorance is bliss, ‘n all that.
But yet if we were just like our purring (or woofing) companions, never to worry about our impending demise, our health or whether or not our bum looks big that day, although life would be that much more simple, without any worries or concerns, wouldnt it have been a shame to have missed out on our much richer existence?
Happy New Year Cecile to you, Matt and the purring kittens :)
Left by London-Lass on Tuesday, January 1st, 2008