Ecclesiastes

My own words, generated from a week of hardship:

Nothing matters. Nothing matters at all. What do we get from the work we do so that we can pay the bills and eat food to keep us alive? A lot of people have lived, and a lot of people have died, but this cycle on earth keeps on happening over and over.

The sun comes up and the sun goes down just the same. The wind blows one way and then turns right back on itself. Rain water flows into streams only to evaporate back into the clouds. All of this makes me tired, tired beyond belief. No matter how much I see or how much I hear, I haven’t yet been filled to contentment.

All of this that happens will happen again and again. No matter what the disguise, there is nothing new. Can you really tell me that something is truly new? I don’t believe you. It was here a long time ago in some way, whether as computer, Turing machine, slide rule, or abacus. And even though things repeat so often we forget the past, and those who will live later will forget us too.

I’m not stupid. I have a Bachelor’s degree and I’m pursuing a Master’s degree. And the more I learn the more depressed I seem to be. I’ve seen just about everything, and none of it matters. None of it matters at all.

The broken things will remain broken, and you can’t count the money or possessions you don’t have. And even though I’m educated and think I know something about this world (on my good days), and even though I’ve been in drunken dispairs (on my bad days), I must say that none of this matter. None of this matters at all.

The more I know the sadder this all seems; the more I know the harder it becomes to deal with this life.

This is a reworking of Ecclesiastes 1 in my own words. Don’t take it as being on par with any sort of sacred word, but hopefully I’m getting the ideas across. This week two events have happened that have just wrecked me. First, my dad (age 53) had a major health complication yesterday. He’ll be fine, but it just really made me confront the reality of death. What will I say at my dad’s funeral when that day comes? What words could I speak to ease the suffering of family and friends? Especially when I know that I will die as well one day, and so will everyone else. I’m not trying to be morbid here, I’m just trying to face what I can’t deny.

Also, Emily and I have a family that we love who live in the Wilkinsburg area of Pittsburgh. We meet with them once a week for dinner and encouragement. For those of you that don’t know, Wilkinsburg is the ghetto of Pittsburgh. And they live in the heart of the ghetto. The drug and gang activity has escalated to the point of danger. They’ve lived there for 9 years and have a beautiful boy and girl. For several of these years they’ve lived next door to a fully active and thriving crack house. Gunshots are fired in front of their house. They fear for the safety of their family. It’s a beautiful house with all sorts of wonderful turn of the century woodwork that would cost a fortune to reproduce today. They moved into this area 9 years ago in an attempt to be a positive force in a dark area. They’ve tried so hard to rage against the societal, beauracratic, and personal bullshit that comes with the territory. And now they’re being chased out. They don’t really want to move necessarily, but how much is too much? How much are we supposed to take before we say that enough is enough? I don’t know. They don’t know.

So that’s what I’m feeling today. This life is a hard life. Where do you find hope? Or do you rage against the mere of idea of hope?