Sickness

i was feeling weak and sick, so i quit drinking and smoking and gave myself more rest. i was living inside my narrative. i was living inside the framework of my ideology which said i was living inside my limited, subjective experience. since there was no other way to live, i accepted it – my narrative explaining that my lowly experience was all there was. all there could be. my narrative mandating there was no way for me or any of my lowly brethren to transcend this lowly, mortal experience. my narrative told me that transcendence was the exclusive realm of god.

had i gone to a doctor, i might have known i had cancer. i might have known there was a better treatment for my illness than rest and the cessation of vice. i might not have suffered and died as i did. perhaps the doctor would have prescribed a better treatment. but the doctor is a part of the same narrative – my narrative – engorged with the same predicament as all of humanity with our limits to knowledge and experience. so it would not have made no sense to consult him. so i didn’t. i chose instead to suffer and die since only god has true knowledge and understanding of my suffering. only god can understand it since god, and god only, is above my lowly subjective experience. the same godforsaken lowly experience as the doctor i might have consulted. as i said, i chose to suffer and die. but really, i didn’t. i didn’t know i was dying. i didn’t have a diagnosis. so i fought against the illness with the rest and cessation of vice that my stupid, lowly narrative – constructed from our stupid, lowly experiences – demanded.

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