The perils of racing to the finish line of life

…We all suffer from what Samuel Johnson called the ‘hunger of the imagination,’ the insatiable craving to fill the moment with more than what is in it now, as well as the constant desire to seek what’s around the bend.  Is it really possible to be content with less?

David Gessner in an article in “The American Scholar” titled “Looking Back From the End of the World:  what Thoreau Can Teach Us About Living Life During — and After — the Pandemic”

It’s nearly impossible to be content with having less of what we don’t need.  And what we don’t need helps fuel our massive consumer-based economy, and has for the 70 years.   Let’s face it, other than the necessities of food and clothing, we could get by on a lot less.  Our whole way of life in the late 20th and early 21st centuries is based on spending, on every imaginable thing possible.  Before  the pandemic, my week would seem strangely empty if I had not made my ritual trips to these places:  Dollar Tree (the 21st century version of the 60s dime stores I loved so much); Tuesday Morning for the lucky find of some gift for myself that I would never have thought to get if I hadn’t walked in their door; Big Lots for whatever (I have absolutely no need to go  there except it’s practically next door to Dollar Tree, so why not?); and finally to Costco to spend absurd amounts of money on bulk items that take me, a single person, weeks, months or years to use up.  Crazy, but I loved going there.   But my membership expired this past June.  My most memorable impulse purchase there that I couldn’t bring myself to even open was a huge 64-ounce jar of pickled asparagus.  Eeeek!

Well, it’s been eight months since I’ve been inside any of those stores.  And I’d say I’ve saved a lot of money except for the fact that I probably more than make up the difference ordering things on Amazon and  getting my groceries delivered.  This has enabled me to be both a virtual and literal hermit, rarely venturing out of the house because there’s no need to.  And I like this new normal a lot and can’t imagine going back to the old ways.  It will be a new day once it’s safe to go out again.

I would say that since I had more time after retiring, I found myself wanting more things and engaging in more shopping trips to partially, and mistakenly, offset the huge physical snd emotional investment of time involved in caregiving for my mother 24/7.    So in a sense, I could justify it.  But not anymore.  The pandemic has upended just about everything concerned with my retirement plans and goals.

So now and henceforth, is the time to re-orient my priorities.  I have more books to read than I could ever finish in several lifetimes.  I have lots of collectible items that gave me momentary pleasure  like a Hershey bar does,  but which now sit on shelves, tables and countertops staring at me.  I’m not saying it’s bad to have fun buying things, but in excess it’s really bad for you mentally.  What I need to do is pick up two or three good books and make a point to read them in a reasonable period of time instead of in  months and years.  It was a standing joke among my former co-workers that I was still  reading a work-related book after seven years.  This also speaks volumes about my attention span.  I’m so interested in so many things hat I flit like a hummingbird from one thought, book, Website, online news site, or YouTube clip to another, “constantly craving to fill the moment” with one more amusing, entertaining, inspiring, educational or dimly absurd distraction after another.  Let me not even go there thinking about the dozens of movies on my various streaming services’ watchlists.  Round and round I go.  When it stops nobody knows, certainly not me.

Although the journey is indeed the destination, the events, activities, priorities and preoccupations along the way really should have a strong  sense of order and meaningfulness.  They should take time, much more then the flickering moments dashing from app to app on my smartphone for hours each day.  Yes, I truly love my smartphone, and can’t imagine life without one.  It takes my mind off so many of the pressing and troubling concerns of the day, especially now.  But at what price?  What am I really learning and what is my goal of excitedly seeking what’s next,  or what es around the next bend in the river before I’ve assimilated where I’ve just been?  This is one of those mysteries of life that with willpower and fortitude I will solve.