We, Who Have Outlived Our Lives

“Deep down in my soul, the flame has gone out.”

—     From “Longest Day” by John Mellenkamp 

I never expected to have this experience. But, for nearly a year now I’ve been living in the doldrums. That is an old nautical term, that hails back to the time that all ocean travel was via sailing. It refers to when the wind stopped, all motion ceased, and the sea was calm. Movement stopped, and no one knew if, or when, it would resume. In my case, the vitality and juiciness has gone out of my life. I am alive, but in no way, I’ve been before.

Recently, I caught myself, saying to friends, That I had “outlived my life.” At the time, I thought I was referring to a sense of no longer feeling any purpose. Later, the feeling blossomed into a more complete lethargy. I had come to a stopping point. Nothing stirred inside. I was bereft of movement. I went on, zombie-like, but I had no motivating fire in my engine, no life in my life.

I’ve been worrying, like many old people do, that I might outlive my money — but what has been happening is — that I have outlived my story. This has many implications for me. All of which add-up to a feeling of pointlessness. Maybe, this is just a phase, the wind will return, or another fire will start burning. But, I’m sensing something else. I am at an endpoint, a place where there is no longer a road.

I had a dream several weeks ago. I was at a graduation ceremony. I, along with several others, were graduating from a rigorous program. We were at a banquet to celebrate. The dream had other facets, not so important to this process. I later awakened with a great sense of completeness. I still feel it. I knew I had been through something significant. I was proud of myself and content. Yet, I did find myself later wondering ‘what now.’ I was ready to go on.

That’s where I am now. Only, there is no perceptible movement. Just this sense that I have outlived the program, graduated, and no longer know why I continue to exist. As you might guess, I wondered about this a lot. More so, as my uncertainty and lethargy have grown. All I know is that I seem to be motionless, going nowhere, doing nothing, feeling lost, wondering if I still belong.

I have begun to think of myself as a piece of flotsam left over from the great explosion of Creation. I’m here, having witnessed some of it, but now only a leftover, a sign of what was. I can attest to what has happened, but I do not have any perception of anything happening now.

Finally, this is an old person’s lament. Isolation haunts this vibrancy. Maybe, this is, the near-final gasp of an old way of being. Dying can be as messy as all birth.

I am also considering the possibility that by coming to the end of ‘my life,’ I am at last, living out ‘the life’ I haven’t lived. A life of not having to have a purpose, of being loved for no good reason, of having nothing to do. That goes beyond all the earthly forms of value I’ve been taught — and all the ways I’ve believed.

Maybe, I have graduated!

And, still, I have much to learn.