On being alive

Cudworth in YSMS

That’s me hanging out during our 4th of July family get-together yesterday. It was hot outside, as it should be on the 4th of July.

Before the party started, I mowed a rectangle in our lawn in hopes of preparing it for a solid game of croquet. The dull mower blade funked up the deal. I wound up raking thick piles of grass into lawn waste bags and the shorter grass was the victim of a bad haircut. By the time the job was finished, I was a sweaty, grass-covered mess.

Which meant plenty of thirst. Stay hydrated, they say. So I alternated chugging water between craft beers. Mostly that left me feeling overloaded and bloated. Which is why, at some point, you just sit in a chair and see what comes next.

More alive

All these holidays tumble at you like the Rolodex of life. At times they make me feel more alive. But at others, it is all I can do to get through the day. This bugs me. These are moments to treasure with people we love all getting together.

Part of that joy can be stolen by a touch of anxiety. Worry is life’s present-time eraser. Worry rubs away the richness of reality and undermines love. If there is one thing people with anxiety love to experience, it is a worry-free day. What a commodity.

No worries

But actually, I feel like it is the people who don’t worry about anything that are often the problem in this world. They gladly coast along living high with whatever privilege they’ve carved out, earned or inherited in life. And that’s enough for them. Let the others go scratch.

“I’ve got mine.”

I’ve never been wired that way. As a middle child, I’ve always been a ‘problem-fixer’ even when it isn’t necessarily wanted. The most selfish thing I’ve likely done all these years is working out. Long runs. Epic rides. Now sessions in the pool.

Sense of time, sense of life

All of that has also been done to give my brain time to make sense of life. Sometimes during yoga I feel a release point where the lock of consciousness comes unclipped. But it always seems to come back around like the lyrics of Tomorrow Never Knows by The Beatles:

But listen to the colour of your dreams
It is not leaving, it is not leaving
So play the game “Existence” to the end
Of the beginning, of the beginning
And these holidays go by one after the other. We pretend that Christmas isn’t just around the corner when we’re soaking up sun in July. But it is.
And these holidays keep coming, round and round. We find ourselves seated in a chair on a hazy, hot day in July. Suddenly we realize how many people have gone from our lives. How we’ll be gone someday too. Sooner than later.
The crickets behind the case for the patio furniture pads are chirping. Their song sounds familiar.
Yet you may see the meaning of within
It is being, it is being
Love is all and love is everyone
It is knowing, it is knowing
And ignorance and hate mourn the dead
It is believing, it is believing


About Christopher Cudworth

Christopher Cudworth is a content producer, writer and blogger with more than 25 years’ experience in B2B and B2C marketing, journalism, public relations and social media. Connect with Christopher on Twitter: @genesisfix07 and blogs at werunandride.com, therightkindofpride.com and genesisfix.wordpress.com Online portfolio: http://www.behance.net/christophercudworth
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