Or: The Out of Control Thought of Losing It
There’s nothing like the unsettling feeling to realize that nothing was like it was just a moment ago. Out of control, shock, stunned, the confidence of having, then in a moment that hollow, empty feeling.
Once the conscious thought to force the air to begin moving through your lungs returns, the sensation of insides that feel like they’ve just started melting is accompanied by that feeling of heat creeping up your neck. Or like a rubber band around your scalp that’s slowly inching it’s way up in fractions, making the hair own your head feel like it’s doing the wave as it slowly stands on end.
When asked if he was ever lost, the great woodsman Daniel Boone had this to say, “Nope, I can’t say I’ve ever been lost. But I’ve been mighty confused for a few days.”
Now, I suppose that nothing is ever truly lost. Everything has to be somewhere. It never exactly disappears. But sometimes the practical use, or life of a thing is gone. A loved one who has passed away. A toy that has become broken. Missing a turn In the road, and being somewhere unexpected. The physical thing we say is lost, is still there, but the parts no longer work, and the intangible function robs the usefulness of it. The life force, the soul, has departed from the cement that binds it to the human frame, and we lose the interaction with that person, and we grieve the loss. In the case of Daniel Boone, we may lose track of our position on the planet, but we’re still somewhere. Just not where we expected.
Some things can’t be recovered. How can a person recall a soul that has departed? The body remains, but a cycle of life begins that calls it to return to the earth. All we have, if that loved one was lucky, or had the fore thought, is the static images we might find in a photo album. Maybe movies of them are left behind, or possibly audio recordings of somme kind. Slices of time. Moments, mannerisms, voices, capturing them being perpetually young, or at a place along their life journey. It’s not them physically. It’s not a soul who we can interact with, or relate to, other than in memories and imagination.
The physical, tangible form is changing, returning to the earth. Physical objects hold recordings, or might be machines to function in countless ways. Broken? Lost functions can be restored. Take a part out. Replace it with a new one, and lost uses are restored. A simulation of a soul returns. A life that’s not a life, but draws out an imagination that rebuilds it in the mind. The machine lives on as indefinitely as the source of fresh parts holds out.
The inanimate illusion lives on until… a mind concocts a better, more effective, efficient machine. One with better functions. More functionality. Better precision. Then the old one isn’t lost. It gets cast aside. Yesterday’s shine and new, becoming today’s rusty and old. Not lost, but resigned to return to earth in its own life cycle to make way for tomorrow’s invention. A new generation of objects to amuse, or assist humanity in the ongoing, unending task of discovery.
Is there anything lost? In a moment anything can be lost. Everything eventually comes to an end, and usefulness is lost. People can live on as long as their ideas and memories are kept fresh, and shared. It’s not the person themselves, just their contribution to the universe. Some small, others far reaching, but all interesting and important in their own way.