On Retirement
Time can not be quantitively eased. Once spent, it is gone. After twenty five years of work it struck me I could easily be dead in a further twenty. Fifty years old. I've paid my way. Earned my space. Half broken my body in the process. If their is a reason for life then it is to look. To see our time. Our brief window. Our singular chance to witness this utter beauty. The utterly breathtaking, speech stopping, awe striking wonder of being. To throw away this gift, for the religious, this opportunity, for the secular, on work and searches for the security of wealth, is either a sin or utter madness. And it is a choice, though one most never perceive. Caught up in the fast gushing river of conformity, the ever side ways looking at what others do. We are free. To wander this paradise. To look. Retirement has been difficult at first. Shaking off the guilt. But finally now I see it for what it is. The bravest most noble thing I could have done with the remainder of my life. Each second spent on futile labour can never be bought back. To wait till ones body is completely broken, sexually none functional, senses dulled, eyes blurred, ears muffled, to leave it till it is too late would be the greatest crime to life, the greatest sin to a god if one exists. None of us knows how long we have got. Think this one through carefully. We spend a very long time dead.
....this is not to say I won't play, make work, in the artistic sense.
Sent from my iPad
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