I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth. – Umberto Eco
Where the fuck is my wisdom?
Seriously, wisdom was supposed to part of the deal, the salve that soothes amidst aging’s unceasing, unending parade of insults and torments. I am now well into my 36th year – my hair is thinning, my back is creaking, my sex drive is waning.
Wisdom should be accumulating, dammit.
I should know more about who I am, what I want to do, and why I’m here on this Earth. I should know more about how the world operates, more about love and relationships, more about politics and economics, more about morality and religion, more about culture and art.
I should know more.
And yet I feel at least as uncertain and confused about life as I’ve ever felt.
It’s not like I haven’t tried finding wisdom. I’m always searching for it. I am at least wise enough to know that more gray hairs don’t automatically translate into more gray matter. So I listen, I observe, I travel, I read, I muse, I cogitate, I study, I analyze. And yet the answers are as elusive as ever.
(I blog as well, obviously, though that’s a process I’ve come to see as mainly an attempt to convince others you have wisdom. Faking wisdom is of course a mighty poor substitute for having wisdom, but in a world populated mostly by fools, it will at least likely get you through the days.)
It’s scary how little I know and how contradictory my beliefs are. When it comes to religion, I’m an incredibly superstitious agnostic who prays when danger nears. When it comes to love, I’m a romantic who doesn’t quite believe in monogamy. When it comes to politics, I’m a bleeding-heart libertarian who has done nothing to change the world for the better other than exercise a wildly underappreciated right to vote.
Most days, I don’t even know who I am. What makes me happy? What is my purpose? Will having a family fulfill me or stultify me? Am I wasting my days away?
When will the wisdom come?
Sometimes I feel I’m right on the edge of being struck by some tremendous, life-changing insight. It’s hard to explain but I literally can feel wisdom’s presence hovering around me, just outside my grasp, like that of a pleasant, long-forgotten memory which I just can’t quite summon for recall.
My biggest fear is that one day very late in my life, I will finally grasp that elusive wisdom – the clouds will lift, the light bulb will go off, the angels will sing – only to find in the very next moment, before I can even share my hard-earned pearl with anyone, aging will exact its cruelest trick, and I won’t be able to remember what was so wise in the first place.
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