I am even more exhausted with social media. The idea that posting something on Facebook, X, Blue Sky, MeWe, et al. has any effect at all is delusional. So many people are deluded into believing they are in some way influencing opinion and that opinion, in turn, has impact on decisions, etc. What it really achieves for the most part is more and more ideological polarization. In almost every case, the algorithm kicks your ass and takes your lunch. No matter your politics, when you're raging on social media, you're literally raging with the machine. And I don't mean "literally" in a lazy colloquial sense that really means figuratively. More than a paragraph on this would be self-defeating.
Life is temporary. Temporary, to widen the scope, means timebound. Temporality is an antonym of eternity. Because life is temporary, everything in life is temporary. While "I look forward to the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come," something I profess each Sunday, it is something I have to take on faith. Let's be honest, even though I believe on the basis of what God has revealed in life eternal, I can't claim to really know what happens after death.
Friendships, which run the gamut from friendly acquaintances to deep connections that move between philia and eros, are almost always temporary, despite our adolescent assertions to the contrary. This is not helped by the fact that we are, despite our internal urge to protest, fickle and contradictory creatures. One minute I can't get enough of someone or s/he can't get enough of me. The next, you're an annoyance, a bother, a needy beggar who needs to just go away. Of course, it's rare that someone will say, "We're done, leave me alone." Let's face it, there are those we can't live with or without. That's life. C'est la vie. Que sera, sera, pick a pithy cliché.
In our automated society, in which everyone is a therapist well-trained in that vaunted therapeutic method of posting memes, which largely consist of out of context quotes by authors with whose work the erstwhile therapist has no acquaintance (Nietzsche in this realm has superseded Freud), and everyone who's ever crossed me is a narcissist, life is not only a cliché but a bad one. Just as constant complaints about the narcissism of others is a sure sign of genuine narcissism, serious people, like myself, are usually the least serious people.
I have to say, staring down the barrel at 60 is a bit daunting. It's not the end of the world, but it brings me closer to the end of the world. This awareness is, uh, let's go with sobering. I have to say, I've been enjoying watching an episode of One Foot in the Grave each night. I read an article this week about this very thing: "I pride myself on being a miserable middle-aged man." I probably enjoyed it more than I should have. My only quibble is with the denial inherent in the assertion of middle age.
Speaking of the end of the world, here in northern Utah we've been having late July/early August weather. What I mean by that is high 90s to low 100s. It's as hot as hell. I was notified, via my "smart" devices of a "fire weather warning." Maybe I can use this as preparation for awaits me at the end of the world. I mean that somewhat humorously, I think. I hate the heat. Since I, too, can qualify as an online therapist, I may have something like reverse seasonal affective disorder.
Julian of Norwich's "all will be well" remains for me a well-intended proposition that may yet turn out to be true. My hope is in the name of the Lord. For me, hope takes the form of something deep within me that features a rather sharp, defiant edge. This defiance has saved my life, literally.
I will end with saying how very spiritually useful I have found reading Evelyn Waugh's Sword of Honour Trilogy. His three novels are a continuous story about World War II. The final installment, which I am now finishing, is Unconditional Surrender.
Guy Crouchback, the main character, is from an aristocratic English west country Catholic recusant family. The novels are loosely based on Waugh's own experiences during the war. Crouchback is Waugh's creation of who he really wanted to be but was not. The second novel of the trilogy, Officers and Gentlemen, culminates with the Battle of Crete. Waugh was in this battle, which resulted in Germany taking Crete. While Waugh's is a fictionalized account, it is written in such a way that only someone who has experienced war could've written it.
Through it all, I find Crouchback's deep and abiding faith, which is neither naive nor sentimental, something of a balm for my soul. While I would say I am not naive when it comes to faith, I do tend to be a bit sentimental. At times, very sentimental. At the risk of being pedantic (a mode that is easy for me to lapse into), I would distinguish between sentimentality and affectivity. Affection is inherent to faith.
While it is probably a repeat (I don't know, I haven't looked), David Lee Roth singing "That's Life" is our Friday traditio. It was either that or "Goin' Crazy," which is also on Roth's Eat 'Em and Smile album. At nearly 60, I can repeat myself now and then, n'est ce pas?
Written by Dean Kay and Kelly Gordon, "That's Life" was first recorded in 1963 by Marion Montgomery. The song was made famous by Frank Sinatra, who recorded it three years later. At least for me, this is reminiscent of "I Did It My Way." Along with John Lennon's "Imagine," "I Did It My Way" is one of my least favorite songs.
When it comes to being a showman, nobody out does Dave:
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