Perplexed

Confused, baffled, mystified, bewildered....

So the other day, my oldest son texted me that he simply doesn’t understand those who want to wait for the Messiah in order to create a better world. He said that they are just slothful. (His word not mine). He seemed tremendously perplexed. So I mentioned to him to study the Rambam, Moses Maimonides, one of the greatest if not the greatest rabbi of all time. There is a saying among the Jewish people, from Moses to Moses there is no one like Moses.

(My son is learning the Tikvah course on Zionism versus anti-Zionism, a history. A little note- prior to October 7, my son had nothing to do with his Judaism after his bar mitzvah. He studied the Holocaust in college- got a degree in it in fact, and I think that that added to his atheism. But what happened on October 7, and the tsunami of antisemitism, lit a spark in him. “By ignoring my Judaism, I am doing what Hitler wanted. I am helping to destroy the Jewish people.” Well no more. For many the awakening was not as dramatic as for my son, but since that horrible day, and confronted with all the hatred, instead of shrinking away, there is a new birth among the Jewish People. A groundswell of activism, study, and defiance. What the antisemites never understood, and it seems the world has yet to understand about the Jewish people, is that you should never push us into a corner….)

Of course, my son googled the Rambam and came up with his 13 precepts of living. It did not answer my son’s question, however, as the Rambam still believed in the Messiah. I mentioned that the Rambam also believed that since we are all created in the image of hashem (G-d for any gentiles reading this post) that we do have some of the Messiah in each of us. So we can and should work to create a better world.

But this interaction reminded me that I once tried to read Maimonides’, The Guide for the Perplexed. I think I got 2 pages in and gave up. His thinking is way beyond me. I freely admit it. So of course, this left me perplexed.

So what baffles me? Well to start with I am mystified by what it means to be in the second half of my life.

You see, I was fine through my 50s. When most people freak out at 50, I thought my 50s were fine. Well in truth I had alot to worry about in my 50s so it didn’t lend for time to concern myself with those philosophical parts of life. Some could say that I was in the fight of my life during my 50s having been diagnosed with breast cancer, but in truth that did not lend itself to moralizing either. That just lent itself to a stubborn refusal to die. In fact, the cancer center where I received treatment was so worried that I wasn’t freaked out about having cancer that they sent me for therapy. I kid you not.

I think that during my 50s I had so much going on in with my family (husband and sons) that I didn’t actually have time to worry about my own mortality.

And yes, eventually it did dawn on me that I had cancer and I needed to deal with that fact psychologically. That happened, about a year after my last radiation treatment, while I was driving and suddenly suffered a panic attack. Not bad enough to get off the road mind you, but bad enough to think to myself … wow I had cancer. (By the way, I have been cancer free for years, and was released by my oncologist over 3 years ago).

Of course, the reality of once having cancer doesn’t go away. You do think about how to make your life better and try to forestall any recurrence as much as you can. It also does let you understand the reality, so much more, of just how vulnerable your life is. (In truth I have buried friends and relatives who have died young from cancer, but never actually associated any of that vulnerability with my own. I suspect that that was simply a human defense mechanism).

But turning 60, was definitely not a good time. No balloons, birthday candles, or bottles of champagne would change how I felt. It was in fact a horrible year. Ok yes it was during COVID and the world was dealing with daily death totals and we were inundated with doom and gloom. But at the same time, I actually wasn’t worried about getting COVID. I just looked at my own timeline and realized that I had more time behind me than in front of me.

So the question becomes, what do I do with those years?

Just as an aside, I can honestly tell you that I do obsess about the ages of famous people when they die. When they are young, say in their 80s or lower, I check why they died. Coming closer and closer to my own 80s I don’t see that as terribly old. 90s are old, but I do try to configure in my own head what I can do in order to reach those golden years and become one of the growing number of octogenarians.

In truth, I am perplexed.

Confused about what to do with the time I have left.

No, there will be no retirement-per se. I seriously cannot see myself sitting by the pool all day, playing golf or canasta (I can’t do either actually, even though I was on my middle school golf team), and then going to the early bird dinner. I do expect to do some kind of work, well as long as my mind holds out. (If the mind goes I wouldn’t know it so there would be nothing more to worry about anyway)

But what a fruitless and useless existence it seems, just lolling around and waiting to die. There needs to be more to life at every stage, including the golden years era. Also, having a purpose will help to keep you alive. (A very necessary point of reality)

So the question is one that I have yet to be able to answer: what path do I take and how do I take it? In other words, what do I want to do when I grow up?

Honestly, I have never been able to answer that question.

So that is why I am perplexed.

I write. I like to write. It alleviates the creation of an ulcer. Helps me channel my anxieties, my hopes, fears, and in a rather solipsistic kind of way, makes my opinion known to the greater internet.

I think it is a need to be heard. To be recognized. To know that you will simply one day not disappear. Because the Internet is afterall, forever….