Life?
Oh, yeah.
It’s an Existential Circus, all right — an eternal, often tedious loop which, in all honesty, is sometimes enthralling, sometimes senseless, and sometimes intolerably, depressingly dreary. And yet, in spite of its obvious drawbacks, here we are —you, and me, and all the others of every imaginable origin and makeup — cruising that Midway on a trip of yet-to-be-determined length and questionable purpose.
I hope you’re having fun. I know I am!
But what if it just so happens that right now, at least, you’re not having fun — or at least not enough of it?
Well, ay: there’s the rub! Because not every ride, every booth, every concession, and every experience can be equally rewarding. Of course, perfection is the noblest of ideas, but let’s face it, my fellow Time Travelers: like immortality itself, such exquisite perfection is, practically speaking, unattainable.
Nothing wrong with reaching for the stars, but come on! Is it not best to approach your quest for perfection with a little common sense and some badly needed humility?
So you concede, along with me, that your time at the Circus isn’t infinite after all? Deal with it! Look back across the countless millennia of human history, then ask yourself how your allotted time here on earth, so far, compares to the statistical expectations of someone your age — to the norm. Then, in all humility, ask yourself if you’ve been allowed to last longer than innumerable others who’ve earned the right to immortality just as much as you, but checked out, as it were, way too early, against their fondest wishes.
Whenever I start feeling sorry for myself for my advanced years and shrinking possibilities, I gain strength and insight from thinking of people like Anne Frank, who perished in a concentration camp after 25 terrifying months in an Amsterdam hideaway — like the 21 victims in Uvalde, 19 of them elementary students — or like George Floyd, who died of suffocation neath the knee of an obscenely callous, inexplicably amoral policeman who’d vowed on a stack of Bibles to protect his fellow humans at all costs.
So hey! I’ll be damned! I’m still here at the Circus, feeling sometimes enthralled and sometimes depressed, angry, and disillusioned. And the way I’ve finally come to see my circumstances is this: I’m truly fortunate to have made it this
far along the Midway, and rock-hard determined to wring every last pleasure out of my visit, right up to the point when the Gate is closed and the Open Sign is turned backward. It’s gonna happen, so why sweat about it? Instead of lamenting my fate as a mortal, I roll up my sleeves every morning, then do whatever I possibly can to make something akin to a lasting contribution to the world around me.