I'm Dying

(Originally posted: March 26, 2006; http://www.myspace.com/azginamarie/blog/102367977 )

I'm dying....

I remember the first time I was consciously aware of my mortality; the first time I truly knew I was facing death; the first time I felt the passage of youth.  It wasn't brought on by any fantastic escape from death.  It wasn't while confronting some looming fate.  It was something very small.

I was out with a friend that evening.  She was meeting with coworkers to listen to a colleague of theirs sing.  Some of them I'd met before.  Some, I didn't care if I never saw again. 

As I sat watching, listening, occasionally interacting with them, I felt detached from them.  There were those in the group who were comfortable with just sitting, drinking a couple of drinks, talking, laughing, just enjoying being out.  But there was one lady in particular who seemed like she needed to be the center of attention.  Every increasingly wild gesture seemed calculated to draw attention to her need.  For some reason, this made her seem much older than her 36 years.

I'm not sure what triggered it, but suddenly I knew that I was watching my life go by and I knew that I would someday die.  I knew this with as much certainty as when I was seven and knew I was going to live forever.
Was this my passage--finally--into adult hood?  Maybe it was the ghosts of the bar, reaching out their dry fingers, caressing the outer skin of my soul.

I looked at my hands.  34 years had written a bit of their story across the backs of them and etched hieroglyphics into the palms.  How had those stories gotten there without my realizing they were being written?  What were the hieroglyphics symbolizing?  Was there some message that was being given to me?  If I interpreted them correctly, would revelation come to me?

And then it seemed as if Life loomed all around, with the being that was me but a small, small, infinitely small piece of the whole mechanism.  I knew, without any doubt, that I would pass through the machine, maybe touching a few lives, maybe sharing a few stories.  I also knew that I didn't want to be like the lady who wasn't satisfied unless she had the attention of everyone in the same vicinity as she.  I want to be able to step into the spotlight when needed and yet step out when it was time for someone else.  I want to live my life with joy, adventure, and passion.  I don't want to be the one who watches everyone else dance and is too self-conscious to dance myself. 

That was a month ago, when I sat inside my own head and watched my little universe bump against others'. 

Today, I found a white hair.

(3/5/12 Note: When talking to my mom about this, she reminded me that I'd had that white hair off-and-on since I was about 12 years old.  I had totally forgotten that until she mentioned it!  It still comes and goes.)