The last .01%

I originally posted this last night, then thought it over and decided to edit it.

It occurred to me there is no last .01% in my quest for the perfect life. The whole concept is bogus, as are most concepts. Perfect? What does that mean? This came from my desire or determination to 'rate' my life on some sort of scale.

Yes, my life is almost exactly the way I want it. But in drawing that conclusion, I am to a large extent simply comparing my life against my remaining attachments and seeing that they don't conflict or cause me discomfort – at least for the present.

It's true that part of the reason I have almost everything I want is because I didn't want much to begin with. That's a good thing, but there are still those remaining attachments, both gratified and ungratified, to which I am partially bound.

Case in point: not working. I can't tell you how much I enjoy not working. I can't tell you how much I enjoy the freedom to come and go as I please, dress as I please and be free from office politics. I know I've blogged about it quite a bit, but I haven't even scratched the surface. I actually started weeping with happiness the other night at the mere thought that I would never have to work again. I wonder at this point if I could ever make myself go back to work. But isn't this an attachment? Am I not attached to being free from responsibility and obligations?

Aversions are also attachments – attachments, you might say, with the polarity reversed. So my aversion to the dreariness of employment is in fact an attachment. It doesn't mean I need to go back to work to 'overcome' my attachment – only that I need to see what's happening and continue my life as it is without indulging the attachment.

Does that make sense? I know what I'm trying to say, but I'm not sure I'm saying it. Let me rephrase it: since I have already retired, there's no value in going back to work just to 'prove' my non-attachment to retirement. On the other hand, I need to clarify my own mind so that while I am content with retirement, I could be just as content with returning to work. Or better yet, be free and clear of any notion of content or discontent.

Also: as much as I hate to admit it, I still find myself thinking about relationships. During my brief seratonin burst in December, I took a couple of tentative steps in that direction, neither of which was productive. I didn't have a tremendous emotional investment in either of them, so there won't be any page-upon-page angst-filled posts.

But I really dislike being pulled in this direction at all. Tied up in it are my aversion to loneliness (which is not the same as solitude, with which I am usually OK); a self-image which ought not to exist in any form, positive or negative; a lingering suspicion of most women which began with my alcoholic mom and continues to the present day; the recently-added reality/nonreality of my past-prime age – and a whole bunch of other baggage ranging from steamer-trunk to overnight case in size.

All the thinking and questioning and doubting and struggling to overcome doubts then struggling to overcome manic enthusiasm - then repeat and repeat and repeat and repeat. It has worn me smooth. These are not obstacles to be overcome or afflictions to be treated; they're a big box of junk that needs to be put out at the curb.

I have an acquaintance - a guy about half my age - who has just had a relationship end on him after only a few weeks. I watch what he's going through and can't help but think, "My god, I never want to go through that myself again." I haven't given him any advice, nor will I, but if I did, it would probably be something like, "This gets less traumatic after about twentieth time it happens. In fact, you eventually reach a point where you don't give a shit going into the relationship, so it's hard to give a shit coming out of it."

So... is this aversion to relationship-related angst another attachment? Sure it is! Both the desire to have a relationship and the desire to avoid one are attachments. Confusing, isn't it? It's easy to see how attachment can wind back around on itself until you have this giant twisting wisteria tree of doubts and doubts of doubt and questions about your questions that becomes so muddled and tangled you can't even figure out what you're thinking.

My advice is to walk away and have some pancakes.

The usual disclaimer applies.