Round Trip Tickets

One of the stories that supposedly sets hairless monkeys apart from all the rest of the animals is our ability to recognize that life comes with a round trip ticket.

As the self professed brainiacs of the planet, we could acknowledge that while today we are sleek and glossy, filled with hope and plans for a shiny future and a happy meal, there will come a day when we are not here to enjoy this earthly trade show.

I'm thinking, well, maybe.

Maybe we could imagine a day when we're not here.

But mostly we don't.

Mostly our monkey minds are busy, busy, busy with everything but the return trip!

Story, experiences, sensations, possessions, chemistry, light, gravity, family, everything now and then - but not that.

Maybe some of us think about it too much. And others not enough?

Some of us pretend we don't know. Some of us know, but stay firmly on the banks of a river in Egypt.

Some of us use it to justify whatever bad habits we express, taking quite a cavalier attitude about the havoc we reek on our lives and the environs.

Some of us create a formula for it where "a" is the outbound leg and "b" is the return trip and "c" is the rewards program for our particular carrier.

So, if "a" is true then "b" equals "c".

And whenever we remember that "a" is an outbound leg, which might not be very often, we can say "b equals c". There are some pretty impressive buildings filled with monkeys that agree with this one.

You'll find this group singing and calling back "b equals c" and experiencing the added benefits of the music and community, knowing that "c" will always be there for the truly faithful. (You'll need to sign up for these programs and present your card to get the rewards. And like any good carrier program, it comes with first, business and coach sections.)

Some of us are packing all the time for the return trip.

We imagine it's one of those genetic things, where we're descended from the upright walking monkeys who were successful because they were always packed to escape from the big cats.

Today, since most of the lions and tigers are working in the entertainment industry and aren't lounging around in the grocery store parking lot, we'll have to practice surviving by imagining our own demise, and in our minds, that staves off the inevitable.

By having this laser-like focus on being packed for the impending experience of mortality, our little gene bucket will survive it.

Actually, I think that's anxiety.

Some of us end up thinking about the return trip to the exclusion of almost everything else. On the one had, this group has done a great job of branding a truly miserable set of stories. On the other, most of us can't actually follow the logic of an existential crisis, much less sustain one.

This group takes comfort in trying to explain to the rest of us some really convoluted stories from a bunch of dead monkeys. Unfortunately, the ones who've died didn't send a postcard explaining once they got home. (No postal service?)

I'm thinking that whatever story I'm telling, it's just that.

And at some point my ticket is punched and I've gone home. Which is my story about a central terminal, where all the trains, planes and automobiles pass through on their journeys.

And being a survivor of my imagined demise, I'm partially packed.

How about you?

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