Strangled by a Giant Squid

In the cold of the winter with the holiday season surrounding us, we continue to ponder all of the hard questions of midlife.  In addition to philosophical and esoteric queries, there are mundane concerns which also warrant review. Today, we contemplate physical matters.  (While I, disembodied as I am, remain free of most of such considerations, I know that they are oftentimes uppermost on the minds of those around me.)

There are wrinkles forming about Herself's eyes; there are a few more gray strands among her hair than there were before. There are the dozen surgical scars, faded now, yet forever present.  There is a bit more padding, so to speak, here and there.  There are aches in joints, chill in fingers, a headache, the surprising impact of a virus:  the body is a delicate thing.  In this culture of smooth, thin, beautiful and eternal youth, it is difficult indeed to come to terms with corporeal fragility and imperfection.  Herself wonders - what problem will surface next?  It is not a question of if, it is rather a matter of when.  She tries to be grateful for relative health, and fears the inevitable decline.  She fervently wishes that she will hold on to her wits unto the very end, for she is terrified of losing her memories, her thoughts, her words. 

Yet, the body is still a serviceable machine.  While it still is running relatively smoothly, it is possible to take action:  hike through that forest.  Crawl into that cave. Recline under those stars. Or just walk. Then, dream bigger: make plans to paddle that lake; to sail that chunk of ocean; to drive to those mountains and scale them. It need not all be done right away, or even soon.  What is important is to think about it, to set a goal:  To do. To go.  One hill at a time.  When a hip aches or a neck is stiff, we hope that will be a reminder of all that we have accomplished despite difficulty.  The pain of success.

In the end, we do not want to arrive at the close of our lives as a well-preserved corpse. We want to go out in a blaze of glory, magnificently:  to be decapitated by a great white shark, to be strangled by a giant squid.  Or, alternatively, we hope that we *pop* at the end - quickly and painlessly with our faculties intact.  Even as the body fails, we will nevertheless be able to recall in our minds' eyes the splendor of the times when we pried open the jaws or escaped the tentacles during our adventures here on this earth.

I do want to consider my passing into the next life as the next great adventure; not fearing, but anticipating, all that is to come.  If the Universe is willing, though, that next adventure will wait.  There are so many things I want to do here first.