I glean a-lot from novels. I finished one last week entitled ‘The Road’ and-it was a tough read. Difficult in the sense of some graphic scenes depicting violence and desperation in a seemingly hopeless world. If a novel is any good I become engrossed and deeply involved with the characters.
In the book there is a mother, father and a young boy. There is some sort of unspecified cataclysm that leaves the world barren of – well, everything. Dwindling food supplies to anything canned or made that survived the ensuing fires and hungry foragers that came after.
The mother decides that within such a seemingly hopeless world- suicide is the only logical thing to do yet – the father, decides to continue onward with his young son. Once you strip life down to the bare essentials-one gets to big existential questions quickly. I thought of how a younger version of myself would have definitely reasoned that suicide was the most sensible option . This earlier version of myself – not being able to see anything beyond the material- was very persuasive and staunchly believed things to be a certain way.
But-as the years progressed- I’ve become less so – less defined and more open to sides potentially unavailable to me.
Now I’m more likely to forge ahead knowing that every moment is part of an elaborate prescription for our awakening.
The book I’m currently reading weaves the reader through countless lives – alluding to all being; one and the same.
I think of how all is a microcosm of the whole and our lives, our shifting awareness and growth-mirror what happens on a much larger scale; through countless eons.
The Road did leave an indelible mark and moved me in a way that inspired goodness. I look back to the way I was when my brother was still alive – and I wasn’t always so kind or easy to be around. Took his death to open a chasm that allowed for some perspective.
Though- the rawness of those moments don’t last – as nothing ever does.
