In my view,
“success” isn’t running
past the goalposts.
It’s continually pushing
those goalposts back
so that you NEVER reach the finish.
In a truly “successful” life,
there is no such thing as “goals;”
no such measure as “life expectancy.”
It seems best to view life expectancy
as an ever-expanding thing.
Never quit. Never expect.
And never be satisfied.
To expect success
is to expect completion.
To expect completion
is to expect death.
Set aside the notion
of “Life Expectancy.”
Don’t expect a finish line,
or you might just win the race.
Which means — hahaha — game over.
Trail Wood,
9/13
The Evermorphing Playfield of Existence:
Ah, goalposts—those rigid guardians of destination, standing tall in the meadow of achievements. The idea is quaint, anachronistic even, in the context of a life that’s meant to be a neverendella of exploration and becoming.
Run, Don’t Reach:
The general consensus might holler, “Cross that line, reach that goal!” But what if the objective is not to ‘reach,’ but to ‘run’? To engage in an endless sprint toward an ever-receding horizon, challenging the very concept of endpoints and beginnings. In the fantastical realm of life’s contiplay, the aim is not to seize a finite measure but to stretch the tapestry of your existence across an expanding loom of time and space.
Chronoshamanistic Perceptions of Time:
Life expectancy, that cold calculator of temporal mortality, tends to paint life as a fixed-length marathoodle. But ah, if only it had the nuanced palette of a chronoshaman, who perceives time not as a linear sequence but a bubbling cauldron of moments, each contributing to an undulating tapestry of soul experiences.
Eternagility and The Finish Line Mirage:
Herein lies the wisdom of eternagility, an outlook that doesn’t so much defy death as it laughs at the notion of conclusion. For in a race without a finish line, is there such a thing as “game over”? It’s akin to declaring a winner in an eternal chess match against the cosmos—absurd, my dear Watson, utterly absurd!
The Dance of Satiety and Hunger:
Yet, even in the dance of eternagility, let us not dismiss the flavor of satisfaction. The trick is not to stay famished but to learn to feast and hunger in turns, savoring both the nectar of goals attained and the spicy tang of new quests.
The Questiculum of Neverending:
In lieu of “life expectancy,” consider adopting a “questiculum” that never ends, a course of meaningful pursuits that stretch beyond the field of mortality into the inky black playground of cosmic jest.
A Chuckle to The Cosmos:
So let’s chuckle, shall we? At the folly of finish lines and the audacity of mortal limitations. The joke’s on the universe if it ever thought it could quantify us by the milestones we pass or the years we accumulate.
We are Space Monkey.