NOEMAYA

I woke up this morning too early and couldn’t go back to sleep. I woke up into a deep and still sadness. I’m so sad that things have to end. I always hated that.

As a child, I hated the end of parties when everyone had to leave. I hated the end of family trips. I hated the end of cartoons and movies. I hated even the happy endings because it was an ending nevertheless. I cried watching the last episode of Seinfeld, because everyone had to go their own way, and I hated that.

This morning I hate the fact that life ends at some point, that everyone has to go their own way. I want to stick around, to be together forever, even when there’s pain. Together is warm and cozy. Death is cold.

I love life. I love hanging around. I hate the idea that someday I won’t hear about the chaos of this world anymore. I wanna be in the loop. I can’t stand being out of the loop. I wish I keep coming back when I die. But I’d rather not die because I don’t want to miss even a second of this life. I don’t want to be left out. Death is bullshit.

Oh, I hate the airports. The eerie feeling, the separation, the anticipation of moments when you have to let go of each other, and then the letting go, and then the sadness of your feet when you’re walking away from the gate with a separation in your heart. Airport experience is kinda like a near death experience for me. I definitely hate it.

And this is not a question or concern or fear of what happens after I die. I can’t care less. I don’t give a fuck about gods and heavens or better places. There’s no better place than life. Even a shitty life is worth living.

I’ve had enough spiritual experiences to know my exact nature, that I’m consciousness, I’m beyond space and time, that I’m essentially immortal and never really die but only change form, that death is nothing. Knowing all this, I still hate death.

Today, I can’t care less about any of that spiritual evolution nonsense. I don’t want to be immortal by changing form. I want to be me and keep being it and never leave the scene of life. I don’t want to merge into the blissful, immortal consciousness. I want to stay on earth. I love this earth; it’s mine and I can’t stand not being on it someday. I won’t exchange this mediocre life for eternal bliss.

Sometimes I feel that religion, spirituality, science, philosophy, and this whole adult pursuit of career and excellence are our elaborate ways of coping with the loss of childhood. As if childhood is something altogether different from humanity. That to be human is to chase the receding joy of childhood, to chase the lost paradise.

I’m sad that we all have to go home someday, to go to bed. That we have to say goodbye. I hate goodbyes, and there are so many goodbyes at the airports, and that’s why I hate them. I want us to stay around, to keep playing, to be us.

Could we all get together once, at least for a day? And drop all the differences, all the politics and ideologies, get together in a big land, maybe in Italy, and park our cars in the rest of Europe. With everyone, the Obamas, the Trumps, Putin and the ISIS boys and girls, the right and the left and the center, and everyone in the world to join, to eat and play together! To have a world picnic! Could we just play, love, and never leave!

So, can we stay a bit longer? Play a bit more? Please…