Adaptive Curmudgeon

The Mr. Bean ATV: Part 5: Nothing Matters

[You thought I was all about machinery didn’t you? No. Machines are tools and nothing more. Engineering feats are means to an end and that is all they are. More important is this unquestionable truth; we are all going to die.]

A few days after I settled on buying a Can Am Outlander 6×6 I had a bad night. I’d made peace with a $10K+ price tag. All that remained was logistics and paperwork. Time to daydream of summertime adventure.

You’d think we could control our hearts like that. We can’t. My dreams of summer adventure had to wait until I’d passed an inner threshold.

That evening I was in a sorry state. Winter winds were howling. They had me on edge. My back was aching from a fall on the ice and I couldn’t get comfortable. What really mattered was that my dog whimpered ever so quietly in her sleep. A sound as light as a mouse’s step and I was instantly awake and rushing to her side. It was the entirety of my universe that night. My dog was about to die. I rushed to give comfort because I knew I wouldn’t be able to do so for long.

I was acutely sensitive to my dog those last few weeks. Always on call, never truly resting. I was there to ameliorate pain but more just to let her know I was there. Care and love. The clock was ticking. None of us live forever. She was going to die. Dogs live in the now. She didn’t know mortality; it is the burden and glory of a human that we glimpse such things.

That night she slept uneasy and I hovered near. Was this the night? Was the reaper at the door? There was no denying the eminent arrival of death. All that remained was the manner of passing. At this point I’d greet the reaper at the door, make him coffee, and ask only that it be painless… for me or the dog, whomever he came to collect. It was a dark night.

I laid down on the couch and dangled my hand over the side. Resting it on my dog’s head. Her uneasy body, as if lost a bad dream, settled… she calmed. Man and dog are different of mind but akin in soul. I willed unease from her heart to mine. It was my time to bear it. Indeed the dog slept soundly. And then I drifted off too.

I did not sleep in peace. At first it was whimsical. I’ve been bothered by money woes, who hasn’t? But it doesn’t happen often. I’m partially immune; I haven’t been everywhere and I haven’t done everything but I’ve done enough. What I have, humble as it is, is earned. I can earn it again. Thoreau said “I would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself, than be crowded on a velvet cushion.” Sound counsel. Unlike the goofy proto-hippie on Emerson’s payroll, I have my own damn pumpkin and will happily grow another if need’s be. Money concerns ‘aint no big thing to me.

But I’d broken the chain; I was coveting expensive shit. I’d been surfing websites and reviews for things I can’t easily own. I’d brought discord into my mind. Envy is a sin as strong as any.

Such a small expense to cause inner conflict. I can afford it if I wish. I generally prefer to keep my powder dry. The easiest way to not fret over money is to not need it. I’ve practiced frugality until it’s a core molecular trait of my every cell. I spend as needed and don’t engage in miserly over-correction, but I don’t piss money away either.

Money isn’t green slips of paper. It doesn’t come from the government. At some level it cannot be gifted to you. You earn it. Mark my words, when you get a “free windfall”… you pay in full. Remember this, if just this week you’re getting a check from the distant and vague rulers of far off DC-land. It’s a resource, it’s necessary, use it well… but you will pay.

Also, money is time. Time is life. Moreover, money is a tool. It is power. It is lever and fulcrum. It can be chains or it can be freedom. I have a great deal of freedom for my humble state; because I don’t let money rule me. I don’t waste it but I don’t covet it either.

The dog snored peacefully and I felt the last sands of her life ebbing. I imagined I could count breaths. Now wasn’t the time apparently. It was still dark and in the cloudless blustery storm I’d lost sense of time. But I was sure she’d see the dawn. Each day was one less day but nobody knows their number. So it is for us all.

I was frustrated with my weakness. I’d be damned if I was going to spend my time worrying. Not about money… it’s too fucking small.

I really don’t like debt. It was already eating at me. Debt I hadn’t taken on was taking it’s toll in advance. The dog slept toward her final days and here I was, no worries save an injured back, and I was tossing and turning. Human fool; allowing myself to waste time on inner turmoil, over something that hadn’t even happened.

“I’m out.” I muttered. And then I fell into a deeper sleep. Freed of envy, I slept in peace. I sailed from a quiet beach.

Until I found a new place. A little island.

What a silly and wondrous thing it is to wander around a little island, barefoot in the sand, thinking “this is my island”. At least for a while… it was all mine.

The feeling was real… because I’d done it. I remember the smells, the winds, the birds, I remember it all. As I type right now, it was just about a year ago.

Plywood and dreams. The cheapest damn watercraft I could make. Did it leave me bereft? Was I sad about it? Was that island a lesser place, for having been discovered without an outboard?

This is David Geffen’s yacht. It cost more than everything I own. Would I trade the memory of one of the happiest days in my life for that yacht? This is the view from my tiny little boat, would the deck of Geffen’s monstrosity be somehow more real?

I awoke with a feeling of peace. My back still ached and my arm was twisted oddly from keeping it on the dog all night. But my heart was relaxed. That morning, my dog and I went for our usual walk, slowly. And then I made coffee.

My dog was going to die and no ATV was worth losing sleep over.

It was a weekend and I “took the day off”. I was thinking of sandy beaches so I started watching You-Tube videos about the Sahara. Everything was going to be fine.

More to come.

A.C.

(Note: For the story of the pictures see my spring 2019 walkabout. For the post with the photos click here.)

Exit mobile version