County Sunshine: A day in the life of the absent-minded philosopher

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As the years roll by, I must confess that various parts of my old chassis just might be a little worse for wear.

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As I see it, the aging human body is a lot like a rusty old door hinge — to the extent that all creaking joints demand attention and periodic replacement or repair. One more thing: my mind, once considered a steel-trap, is now ever so slightly rusted; all-too-often stuck in neutral, idling passively, while slipping in and out of periods of full-blown concentration.

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In my younger days I was ambitious, energetic, always trying to stay one step ahead. If I was awake, I was preoccupied with chasing my dreams.

Nowadays, I’m more inclined to let things come to me and I will take a much longer look before I leap. This calculated approach is an almost perfect blend of maturity, procrastination, arrogance, and laziness. It works beautifully — most of the time.

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Breakdowns most often occur when the aforementioned steel trap unexpectedly crashes.

Just the other day, while going in circles on the lawn tractor, I had a terrific idea for a column.

“Wow, this is perfect!” I thought, “I should run inside to scribble a few notes.”

Then a bird flew by, or maybe it was the distraction of a busy chipmunk at the compost container. I’m not entirely sure how it happened, but it was as if someone had pushed a fast-forward button, causing the once clear mental image to blur and then totally disappear. The incredible story idea, which had been sharply in focus, just seconds earlier, had vanished.

I was left shaking my head in disbelief while muttering, “What just happened?”

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As I sat on the now-idling Husqvarna, I glanced once again at the chipmunk by the composter, wondering if that might spark the return of the lost apparition.

It did not, and the playful chipmunk seemed to be chuckling.

I have been telling myself that these occasional short-circuits are not entirely tragic because I do have several such creative flashes each and every day. The loss of one more eureka moment is really quite insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

What if I happened to forget something of much greater importance? Something akin to the meaning of life, for instance? Suppose I was hard at work painting the shed when the virtual clouds parted and a prophet (let’s call him Semi-Gloss Moses) appeared before me holding two patio-stone tablets inscribed with a dozen, profound statements and teachings, mockingly titled “Earthly Existence For Dummies?”

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After shouting, “eureka!” to properly celebrate such a truly significant moment, I would quickly embrace my good fortune.

Yes indeed, the realization that, following years of scholarly debate, endless philosophical discussion (not to mention my own dubious medical experiments using only soft, presumably harmless drugs), I was about to discover the true meaning of life!

Needless to say, as the chosen one, I would be tingling with anticipation.

Then I might decide to finish painting the shed door before heading inside to scribble a few notes.

Please don’t laugh; this could actually happen. The sad truth is it may have already happened. Yes, it is entirely possible I have had such a grand vision — and simply forgotten all about it.

Such is the life of an absent-minded, ever so slightly rusted, weekend philosopher.

Terry serves up a little food for thought each week and welcomes your comments: countrysunshine@xplornet.ca.

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