I have been immensely sad today, which is not like me. I am not at all disposed to melancholy, even when the most dire or cruel of life's misfortunes strike. I usually recover my composure fairly quickly too. Not on this occasion however. Alien feelings and bouts of tears scratched holes in my entire day before I was able to make some sense of why I was feeling this way.
This was the first day in a long time that I have been alone. A day of utter solitude. It's a day I have been craving for at least a year as the full-time job of caring for my 10-year-old 'Aspie' son, with my wife focusing all her energies on starting a new business in the far northeast of the country, became an onerous task rather than a delight.
Initially, with Nico safely ensconced in our village for the two months of a long summer holiday just beginning, and in the dutiful care of his mother (which all three of us needed) I assumed I was just pining for his presence. I also began to feel guilty that I needed to take a break from him and his occasionally bizarre antics for a while. And that was certainly a part of my problem.
But then the burden of comprehending what's going on in the world collapsed in on my mood: the horrors of Ukraine; the abuse of power along with the selfish recklessness of ruling political classes, the lunacy of an economy based on endless growth and competition, the need for an endless stream of trivia exhibited by those paralysed by ignorance, the toxic cycle of excessive production and unbridled consumption, the iniquitous exploitation of neocolonial habits, the forms of exceptionalism that cast 'others' as of less consequence, and the sheer intolerance of humans to each other housed in the same ship of fools sailing headlong towards civilisational collapse... All of these thoughts crowded in on me with ennui for a future my loved ones must navigate and I will not be here to see.
But it was more than that. Much more in fact. Phantasms encroached on routine thoughts. I was haunted by images of those I had loved and did not, could not, stop loving even when my love for them was betrayed, cast aside or simply forgotten. The dreams I had as a young man along with the determination to live an exceptional life kept resurfacing, but now in the guise of doubts and accusations. Had I lived up to my ideals? Had I been audacious enough? Was my contribution to society really of any consequence in a world where celebrity is valued more than wisdom, grace is worth more than gravitas, and the possession of money too often signifies one's standing?
My life has not been one of genius, great artistry or selfless toil. I haven't discovered significant scientific theories or invented much from which others might benefit. Oh, I did set some pretty grand goals, for myself and others, including helping to design systems that could beneficially impact a billion or more people at some stage in the future. But in truth, the few original ideas that occurred to me - mostly implemented by others with greater wealth, status or influence - probably had little impact in the grand scheme of things.
But then I stopped short. During the pandemic I had spent many hours listening intently to the voice inside my head trying to calculate what work I still needed to do in order to feel a sense of completion. How could I focus my writing, public speaking, mentoring, advisory and design work with major enterprises and via the Centre for the Future in a way that was more concentrated - illustrative of the grand conceptions I had been carrying around in my mind since my youth?
Although I have never been granted honours, decorations, or medals for what is, let's face it, a paltry list of modest achievements, I never once felt hurt or offended. Public recognition is not something for which I have striven. Indeed, staying out of the limelight has been one of my most consistent aims.
But this year I have been given the greatest honour of all: to leave the senescent theatre of my time here, performing one final encore with the applause still ringing in my ears. This gift came unexpectedly from a complete stranger. A young man with wisdom beyond his years, and a spirit to match, offered me the chance to help him realise his grand challenge, for the future wellbeing of his family and of humanity, by proposing I continue my own rite of passage in an enterprise he had started but that we would pursue together.
In that moment of clarity I saw that today's bout of melancholy arose not from sadness but from the awe in which I hold the sacredness of life, the great mysteries of the universe to which we are all subject, and the extraordinary optimism and ingenuity of a species that will endure when I am gone, though with differing purposes and epistemological frames to those I inherited.
I also realised the true meaning of a poem by Salvatore Quasimodo, which I first encountered as a young musician studying composition and conducting in Italy many years before:
Ognuno sta solo sul cuor della terra
trafitto da un raggio di sole:
ed è subito sera.
The English translation of this haiku reads as follows: Everyone is alone on the heart of the Earth, pierced by a ray of sun. And suddenly it's evening.
This poem has troubled me for the past half century. I always imagined it to be an ode to solitude yet a prelude to the inevitability of our passing. But today I interpret that sliver of warmth, from a solitary ray of sunlight, as the love and compassion individuals can and must have for each other. And in that love, which endures and is eternal, we all carry on the work of what it means to be human long after death visits any one of us, and time moves inexorably on.
As I approach 77 at the end of November I feel so much compassion with your musings as I hover between introspection and regret for a life half lived - especially in comparison with what you have managed to achieve, despite your misgivings.
They say the Limbic brain developed within us to enhance our sense of religion, myth and mystery in order to deal witth our specie's realisation of the finality of death and our attempts to reconcile and even counter that realisation. None of which detracts from our reminiscence of the good and the substandard we may have achieved, but in the process it's important never to lose sight of those things we have - our love - whether reciprocated or not, our impact - whether personal or more concrete, our legacy - whether in the souls we have touched or the offspring we have birthed. On all accounts I, at least, can recognise you as a significant human fellow traveller.
Beautiful deep piece, on many levels, thanks for sharing. I’m 70 yr and as I head towards the pointy end of my life I often have moments of “WTF”!! I love living my life, the good the bad & the sad. I’m grateful for it all. I’m learning to be more present so as to enjoy the detail. I have this urge to do more, to totally exhaust every moment as if it’s my last, not sure why but I’m loving my time on this earth. I’ll rest when I’m dead. I guess I’m finally learning how to live rather than exist. Cheers mate.