09 September 2010

Cellular Entropy

Sunday AM, my phone rings. It sits at the side of the bed as I sleep, never switched off, but never ringing. People know better than to phone me on Sunday AM. Schrodinger's Phone, neither off nor in use, existing in a permanent half-state, the embodiment of cellular entropy.

Sunday AM, my phone rings. Suddenly it is real, it exists, it is an object in use. The concept of a phone has become the reality of a phone, hard and tangible, intruding into my semi-consciousness, a digital anchor that drags along the seabed of my dream-state, fighting against the tides of slumber that seek to pull me further and further from the shores of wakefulness.

Sunday AM, my phone rings. Something is very wrong.

My phone remains on overnight for one reason and one reason alone.

At times I have been more distant from my family, rarely have I been closer than I am now. My relationship with my family is reciprocal and harmonic, they are as close or as distant as I encourage them to be. In times past, when travelling at the furthest most point of this familial orbit, news of events has taken days or weeks to reach me, if at all. Visits home have resulted in long lists of Events of Note that have transpired without me, hospitalisations, illnesses, births and occasional deaths, none of which were relayed to me at the time because no-one wanted to bother me.

I wanted to be bothered.

My phone remains on so that I can be bothered.

Sunday AM, my phone rings. After many months of regular interaction my family now know to call me. Something, therefore, is very wrong.

Late on Saturday night my Grandmother had a stroke. Another stroke. Thankfully mild this time, a good recovery is now expected. This was not the prognosis on Sunday AM.

The actions that we take, the activities we do in preparation for something that we never imagine will actually come to pass, the separation in our mind between the concept and reality, the Un-Imagined and the Real, is this what allows us to accept our inevitable mortality and still arise from bed each day? Empirically we know what one day will come to pass, but we deliberately choose to un-see the future. Is our continued ability to exist and function based on an ongoing Sin of Omission, a passive lie we tell ourselves to mask the horror of the finite?

Perhaps, but the active lie of an infinite afterlife holds less joy for me, a true Sin of Commission, as Aquinas would say (though perhaps not in this exact context).

Sunday AM, my phone rings. I know that the phone may ring, I leave it on for just such a purpose, but in the very moment that its purpose is fulfilled I curse it for ever existing.

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3 Comments:

At 9:21 pm, Anonymous steve said...

stay well man..

 
At 2:10 pm, Blogger Unkie Dave said...

Cheers Steve. She's a tough old woman and should make a full recovery. Would that I had but a fraction of her strength!

 
At 10:38 am, Blogger Snag Breac said...

Hope it is all going okay with her recovery and you're doing okay too.

 

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