Death of a powder blue gourami fish — and theoretical physicist Sabine Hossenfelder's essay — on feeling "done here"

19 September 2018

Today — I weave two dissimilar strands into one

This may say something about the human condition.

Or not. An ambiguity which itself represents consciousness's predicament.

We begin with the trivial — which paradoxically isn't

I have aquariums.

One holds freshwater shrimp, snails, six tetras and two powder blue dwarf gourami. At least so until yesterday, when the larger of the gourami accidentally killed himself by getting trapped under a rock. Given the fact that both gouramis always hid, I did not notice until too late to save him.

Seeing him wedged, I moved the rock. He made two violently arcing, side-swimming wriggles and expired. His net-caught body showed significant scale damage. His unmoving eye accusatorily examined me.

A small life gone, and a surprising level of sadness and sense of responsibility on my part.

I had changed both the aquarium's substrate (from sand to gravel) and its water circulation pump two days before. The new pump was much louder. And the substrate both harsher and a different color.

Had psychic trauma scared him into trying to escape, by squeezing himself under a rock?

I imagined him, wedged into that crevice. Unable to move. Unable to breathe. Gouramis like to come to the surface to gulp real air.

Not a pleasant way to go. And then, with the rock suddenly removed, those two anoxic-brained, violently reflexive half circles in the water. Rending. A visual manifestation of intuited suffering.

As I lay awake, last night, thinking of this, I recognized that a bundle of family and friend deaths, this last year, had impacted my perspective. Among those passings, my son.

Historically, the planet's masters of soul have indicated that All is One

Or, alternatively, that we are (at least) all strung together. Now and across ages.

Certainly, I have felt so, at least since the age of 4. Watching an Italian infant's horse-drawn funeral carriage, clip-clop across my field of Roman view.

Under these conditions, one never escapes loss and sorrow

Or the sense that our efforts at helpful control are all destined to fail.

Even for those of us long-accustomed to the wink-in and blink-out of moments — soon or late — essential pieces of "it" crumble and vanish.

Dr. Sabine Hossenfelder's parallel observation on aging and meaning

Physicist Sabine Hossenfelder and I share the experience of nearly croaking a number of times during our lives. Perhaps that's affected our views about cosmic evanescence.

Both of us noticed the age at which one of parents died. And have used that as a marker (possibly) pertinent to our (perhaps) allotted time:

My father died a few weeks shy of his 42nd birthday. Went to bed one night, didn’t wake up the next morning.

I’ve been on the receiving end of epinephrine shots more than once.

Today I woke up to find I reached the end of my subconscious life-expectation. In two weeks I’ll turn 42.

I have checked off almost all boxes on my to-do list for life. Plant a tree, have a child, write a book. The only unchecked item is visiting New Zealand.

But besides this, folks, I feel like I’m done here.

I share that sense. As well as Hossenfelder's other thought:

I used to think old people must hate all younger people because who wouldn’t rather be young. Now that I’ve reached a certain age myself I find the opposite is true.

I . . . love young people. They give me hope, hope that I lost in my own generation.

But getting older also has an awkward side, which is that younger people ask me for advice.

I am supposed to be a role model now . . . I am supposed to encourage young women to follow my footsteps.

If only I had something encouraging to say; if only those footsteps would lead elsewhere than nowhere.

My advice, ladies, is to find your own way. And keep in mind, life is short.

Full circle

I'd only had the blue gourami in the aquarium for 2 months, when his iridescently blue self passed on.

Life's a wink. Possibly an absurd one.

Meaning, pleasure and what are only some of the questions.

The moral? — Don't take it too seriously . . .

And, on the other hand, do.

Dynamic paradox characterizes reality.

Even when we are unaware.

PeteFree.com

Death of a powder blue gourami fish — and theoretical physicist Sabine Hossenfelder's essay — on feeling "done here"