On What’s It All About?
What’s it all about, Alfie,
Is it just for the moment we live?
What’s it all about, when you sort it out?
Are we meant to take more than we give,
Or are we meant to be kind?
And if only fools are kind,
Then I guess it is wise to be cruel.
And if life belongs only to the strong,
What will you lend on an old golden rule?
As sure as I believe, there’s a heaven above,
I know there is something much more,
Something even non believers can believe in.
Alfie – Burt Bacharach/Hal David
Sometimes life appears as if it’s a series of cliches strung together with the translucent appearance of things that look comprehensible but are often quite complex, apprehending or articulating. The questions that all roads to Oz lead to is “What’s it all about?”
At times I feel as if my waking state is really a repetitive dream, and my “dream state” is the real me, but I don’t remember enough of it when I “wake up”, and that makes it less accessible . Other times I know I’m connected, but I can’t sustain it. So I have come to the conclusion (for now, at least), that my expectations have affected my ability to consciously connect.
My expectation of happiness has always been that it’s sustainable, to some degree, and that I have some conscious effect on keeping it going. Although I simultaneously am aware of the uncertainty that I’m experiencing at that moment, and that it is reasonable to have it since life really has uncertainty in it. And that’s enough to maintain ambivalence. Then there is hesitancy to interpret what’s happening too quickly, thinking I can “prepare” a range of actions for things that happen, especially when it’s fast and unexpected. This then becomes a struggle over indecision and procrastination.
Life can certainly have its ambiguity. Which makes me always come back to asking: “What’s it all about?”