Notes from Maine - 2024/01/21

This morning, I was punished for waking up early. I tried to fight it—I tried to get back to sleep by solving math problems. I ended up with a puzzle that I couldn’t solve, and that kept me awake. Here was my conundrum (not that you asked):

If you divide a single digit number by 9, the answer is that same number as a repeating decimal. For example, 4 / 9 = 0.444 (4 repeating). But is there anything you could divide to make 0.999 (9 repeating)? No. The answer is no, right? Because it would basically need to be ∞/(∞+1), right? I don’t know. Thinking about it kept me from falling back to sleep. I was also having a repeating dream where I was trying to turn on the porch light to see the driveway but the bulbs were out. There was something out there, but I couldn’t see it. Then I would realize that it must be a dream, because there was darkness that light couldn’t penetrate. My dreaming brain realized that things weren’t real. Exhausting.

So, I got up. Getting up early this time of year is punishing. The thermostats weren’t on yet, so the house was freezing. Throwing the frisbee for Albert was freezing. Doing the horse chores was freezing. It’s not actually cold here. Other places in the country are actually cold right now, but I was chilly and tired. Overall, just a lousy way to start the day.

I just deleted two long, morose paragraphs meditating on death. Sometimes I take a break, come back, and just hold the backspace key for a while. Finn is getting old. He will be eleven this year which is ancient for a Mastiff, but he’s doing fine. We’re all a little unstable in the backend now and then. I’m not preoccupied with my own death, but always have the fact that some day my animal friends will leave me.

Those thoughts aren’t for today. This is turning out to be a bright winter day, and there are a ton of things to get done. But just to dwell on the topic for another moment, are you afraid of death? I listen to a podcast (WTF with Marc Maron), and he talks about a fear of death with some of his guests. I’m not certain exactly what they’re afraid of, honestly. If I had a fight tomorrow and a ton of things to get done before I left, I might worry about it. I suppose that I would want to make lists and rush around doing everything, but that’s only because I would be concerned about the post-flight consequences of not finishing my tasks. In this case, there are no post-death consequences to worry about, are there? Regardless of what you believe happens to our consciousness or soul or whatever, will you still have your earthly concerns in whatever comes next? I’m not eager to die or anything, but I strongly suspect that nothing but peace awaits us—either the peace of nothingness or some sort of reunion with the larger spiritual ocean.

I don’t know—it’s all speculation, right? Everyone is free to believe what they want to believe, but my belief is that any firmly held opinion on the topic is pure speculation (including my own, of course). Who cares? This is winter in Maine. You wake up early and think about death for a few hours before trying to get stuff done. At least we have snow on the ground now. The pasture isn’t just mud and ice anymore. 

Speaking of the pasture, I have to get new boots today. I always order the same ones. They’re cheap and rubber and they last about a year. Regular work boots just aren’t waterproof enough to use in ankle-deep mud day after day, so I get the rubber ones that go up past my calf. This time, my toes are hitting the inside and getting sore. I wonder what changed? Looking at my history, I’ve ordered the same boots six times in a row and suddenly they don’t fit right. Do feet get longer as we age?

If it were the width, I would completely understand. I haven’t bought my own sneakers in years and years because I have a friend who buys aspirational shoes. About once a year he brings over a box of brand new sneakers. The company told him on the phone that the sneakers should fit his extra-wide foot, but they didn’t. Length-wise, we’re the same size, so he gives them to me. I love those things. Maybe I should talk my friend into trying to buy some boots. 

It really is bright and beautiful outside today. Maybe I’ll go out and do chores in the middle of the day with my bruised up toes crushed into those stupid boots.