Synthesis - 2020

Perception

I am the focus of my universe,
It is a physical tautology.
I spin and look at the world around me;
I must be near the centre of its orbit.

Duty

I perceive the fragility of the present
Through fractures of the past,
And I view the future with trepidation;
Thus, am I without a doubt alive.
The crushing sense of responsibility,
Not even that of others I may care for,
But just the constant effort of life,
If looked at as a long perspective,
Seems like an unsolvable problem at times.
So, it is not surprising that taking on
Any additional duties is an act
That requires careful consideration.
And attachment has the disadvantage,
That it removes the possibility
Of just giving up the fight.
Better then to not look too far ahead.
I guess carpe diem has something to it after all…

Restraint

Chains of will restrain the animal self,
As its release would not fit into the pattern,
That I have constructed for myself.
And yet I fear how permanent these fetters
Will prove to be with a lack of guarantees.
Intrusive thoughts of harm or self-harm
Worm themselves into my head
Some I can push back or swat aside,
Those of harm or those that could
In theory, transition to action.
But others are soothing,
Welcomed like old friends –
No better stress-relief than
Inventing novel ways of dying,
Picturing the disintegration of my physical self.
But I promise myself that
This will not be a path I’ll take,
Unless it is of absolute necessity,
Unless as a safety measure,
To protect others from myself.

Purpose I

Obviously, life has no meaning,
It is a physical phenomenon,
Arising from an accident of cosmic proportions.
But once extant, it self-perpetuates.
The wheel of evolution turns,
Churning out beings with no purpose,
Other than the necessity to procreate.
But we have in a way broken this cycle,
And are expected to have other aspirations.
Some turn to God or Fate, and I envy them,
But to me, the evidence points towards…
Well… Nothing. There are no handy answers.
So, we all must choose our priorities,
And most seem to decide not to venture
Far from their original programming,
Sticking to perpetuating their genes;
Achieving “family bliss” as their ultimate goal.
It may entail going through motions in support;
The intricacies of mate-selection
Require material gains and social standing,
But it is all an obeisance to our biology.
If we are given such intelligence,
And the unique ability to break our shackles
Surely, it would be a waste not to at least try.
Yet in the end we are still animals;
And animal needs are hard to set aside.

Purpose II

It is fairly clear what my priorities are.
Through a combination of upbringing,
Mentality and perhaps disappointments,
It seems that creation of something worthwhile
Has become my raison d’être.
The definition of this is of course rather hazy,
And I’m not sure I can describe the criteria
I apply to decide what fulfils this goal.
Certainly, solving scientific problems,
Especially when related to human health,
Appears to be among these.
So, I subordinate other considerations,
To my ability to carry out this task.
I have left home and family,
And I think I’m prepared to do so again,
For an elusive chance to be at the cutting edge.
And many things I do, or think, I can justify
By my doing something potentially useful.
For retaining the moral high ground,
Is also a core tenet of my ideology.
Doing science, and being good at it,
Has become such an integral part
Of my self-perception, that I feel
Without this not much else remains.
And so, out of fear of losing my self,
I pathologically strive to be better yet.
But the annoying thing is,
I know others, or of others,
For whom this is even more important,
Thus, with whom I cannot really compete.
But at least work is not the sole component,
Merely the first among equals,
That coalesce into my consciousness.

Roots

I often worry, that I repress emotions,
So heavily, that I make logical decisions
Even in cases where it seems inhumane.
Perhaps it is just introversion,
But it seems that while spending time
With friends and family for most
Is the height of enjoyment and bliss,
For me it is at best a pleasant chore.
Just another item to cross off
An ever-expanding to-do list,
Aimed at maintaining a social net,
As I know from vicarious experience,
That once lost, it is hard to rebuild,
And I do not wish to be alone in old age.
I hope this is not something unique,
A symptom of clinical sociopathy,
Merely a reflection of the amount of energy
That social interactions drain from me.
Energy that needs to be regenerated,
By being painstakingly alone.

The threat of civilization’s downfall,
The loss of interpersonal connections,
Of colocalized human interaction,
In the end made me realize,
That this is an intricate balancing act.
That both too little and too much
Can be a burden that is hard to bear.
All the more reason to invest in
The cultivation of camaraderie.

Absence

It feels like I’m missing an essential skill,
Some instinct of which either I possess,
A dysfunctional mutated copy
Acquired through patrilinear inheritance,
Or that I repress so adamantly,
That it might as well not exist.
If it is the former, there’s not much to do…
However, I’m worried it is otherwise.
But why would I do this to myself?
It’s not like I don’t want
That which all others seem to want.
My biological drive is just as strong,
And emotional need just as real,
As what others in my species experience.
Is this subconscious self-sabotage?
Perhaps instead of a simple closet,
I have locked myself in an oubliette
So deep, damp and forgotten,
That I am unaware sunlight exists.
But, even were that so,
It does not fit into my narrative,
My perception of who I am,
And I often think that is which
Really defines these matters.
Maybe I’m just afraid of commitment,
So, reluctant to take on responsibility.
Certainly, I fabricate narratives,
That explain why it is not so…
That I merely take this more seriously,
More than most others appear to;
I do not want anyone, just to have someone.
That to supress my biological urges,
Is a most noble undertaking,
By which I rise above my animal heritage.
That I have just been unlucky,
Having always chosen those,
That did not then choose me.
That I am waiting for the right one,
And that there is still time…
But if I am myself the culprit,
How can I trust these alibies?

Escape

The world is mighty complicated,
And though I strive to be in control,
I know it is impossible to generate a model
That achieves good enough predictive power,
To be able to judge the consequences of all actions.
There is too much that should change,
But that I have no power to affect,
At least in any meaningful way.
The solution is deceptively simple,
Immerse myself in a model universe,
Where I am but an observer,
And thus, am under no obligation
To change the course of any event,
Eliminating all my responsibility,
And all necessity to predict the future.
This universe need not be hampered,
By the physical laws governing us,
And so, could provide segues,
Into intriguing thought experiments
In flavours limited only by imagination.
Or, I can take a more active approach,
Diving into a simplistic model universe,
But one I can directly influence.
As now I have the capabilities,
To understand all the laws that govern;
I can feel in complete control.
And that is a welcome distraction.
 
Finale
​
I think death holds no mysteries for me.
On a physical level my medical knowledge
Provides a good approximation to both causes,
And the biophysical effects thereof.
Decay of flesh may be unseemly,
But there is nothing more mundane.
On a spiritual level, I have a good expectation
As to what the hereafter contains: oblivion.
True, it is hard to imagine not existing;
Being the centre of my perceived universe,
Through which all observations are made,
The lack of me is an apparent paradox.
On a personal level, death has walked with me,
Since I saw its shadow in the big apple.
Almost all have seen loved ones
Torn from them before their time, I have too.
But not many have had someone close,
Have the threat of death looming over them,
Sometimes acutely, other times chronically,
Over long years where I did not know how to help.
This breeds acceptance as a means of defence:
I have buried her alive countless times.
There is an awareness of mortality,
That experiences like this engender;
Death always lurks around the corner.
That threat has now somewhat abated,
As a result, I no longer expect it,
And have lost my state of readiness;
I have become vulnerable again.
As to my own death – I tell myself I don’t fear it,
Yet when I lay in the grip of a high fever,
Or thought I had inhaled cyanide,
I was certainly, undeniably, afraid.
I hope that when it does come –
And may it be in a while yet,
For I have much still left to do –
I will face it with some dignity.