Rock musician Bif Naked has just released Bif Naked Forever, her first new album in three years. The lead-off song is called "So Happy I Could Die."
I totally understand that. Don't worry. I have no plans to check out. As bad as things have sometimes got for me, and as overwhelmed as I get occasionally, I've never been inclined that way (some parts of Catholic upbringing stick with you, like it or not).
I also want a lot more life. I have plans. I have dreams. I'm not nearly done. Much still to do.
But if my life were to end right now? I would not feel ripped off. I have come through some nasty shit, but at this point I am very, very fortunate. I am thankful for everyone and everything in my life, even my painful elbow (could it really be getting better?). For 31 years, I have loved and been loved by an amazing person who still makes me laugh every day. I have incredible friends, people I love and cherish, people who can count on me and whom I can count on. I have a good, seemingly stable job. I play in a band with some of my favourite people in the world. We make such wonderful sounds! (Shameless plug here—I don't do shame anymore.) I have a kitty with the softest fur in the world who likes to keep my lap warm.
I love all this, but if I were suddenly, or even over time, to cease to exist, I couldn't complain.
It's funny. This morning, some Bible people came to the door. I don't think they were Jehovah's witnesses. Probably just from one of the local Bible-based churches. I had a pleasant discussion with the young man who was the speaker. He probably doesn't meet too many scientifically minded Wiccans, especially not one standing at the doorway in her dressing gown (ring my bell and take your chances!). I gently ran rings around him logically. Like, when he asked how I knew that the Bible didn't come from god, I asked him how he knew that the Bhagavad Gita didn't come from god. And I said that while I could understand the appeal of wanting to live forever, I saw no reason to think that was so.
When I'm gone, I'm gone. If I may, I'll stick around for a while longer. But when the time comes, that's OK.
I totally understand that. Don't worry. I have no plans to check out. As bad as things have sometimes got for me, and as overwhelmed as I get occasionally, I've never been inclined that way (some parts of Catholic upbringing stick with you, like it or not).
I also want a lot more life. I have plans. I have dreams. I'm not nearly done. Much still to do.
But if my life were to end right now? I would not feel ripped off. I have come through some nasty shit, but at this point I am very, very fortunate. I am thankful for everyone and everything in my life, even my painful elbow (could it really be getting better?). For 31 years, I have loved and been loved by an amazing person who still makes me laugh every day. I have incredible friends, people I love and cherish, people who can count on me and whom I can count on. I have a good, seemingly stable job. I play in a band with some of my favourite people in the world. We make such wonderful sounds! (Shameless plug here—I don't do shame anymore.) I have a kitty with the softest fur in the world who likes to keep my lap warm.
I love all this, but if I were suddenly, or even over time, to cease to exist, I couldn't complain.
It's funny. This morning, some Bible people came to the door. I don't think they were Jehovah's witnesses. Probably just from one of the local Bible-based churches. I had a pleasant discussion with the young man who was the speaker. He probably doesn't meet too many scientifically minded Wiccans, especially not one standing at the doorway in her dressing gown (ring my bell and take your chances!). I gently ran rings around him logically. Like, when he asked how I knew that the Bible didn't come from god, I asked him how he knew that the Bhagavad Gita didn't come from god. And I said that while I could understand the appeal of wanting to live forever, I saw no reason to think that was so.
When I'm gone, I'm gone. If I may, I'll stick around for a while longer. But when the time comes, that's OK.
1 comment:
Wish I could think up something like that quickly when they come calling. Some Jehovahs Witnesses once insisted on reading some verses of the Bible to me even though I didn't understand French at the time. I think that they were hoping for the miracle of tongues.
I would have no regrets as I am at the moment. I just don't want to suffer any pain when I go.
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