OMPHALOSKEPSIS: Contemplation of one’s navel as an aid to meditation; also: navel-gazing.
I can picture someone bending over, trying to peer into their belly button, prying the skin apart, looking desperately for the answers to
life. “Are you in there? Anything?”
“And there’s just an echo. What’s the point?! (of all this…) not sure if I really care…”
“Seriously though, it’s like we work just to survive then we get old and die… doesn’t it sound sad? Life is too short to be miserable.”
That’s about what exactly I’d think if I were to look into my navel for the deepest answers to life. We are simply survival machines for
our DNA. We’re vehicles for the propagation of our DNA. That’s our sole (physical) purpose. We just have to make it as painless and pleasantly interesting as possible.
“Sometimes I wonder if I’d be happier in a simple life.”
I know I would.
“That would be ideal if there were no worries of money. Everything costs.”
That’s what I like about the idea of a simple life. If you save enough now, then downgrade your (what is it called…) something of
living drastically, you could be really happy. I don’t want to drive or worry about a car when I’m 70. I don’t want to live in a home with
bills and all the complications of life when I’m older. I’ve earned the right to not have to deal with all the things I hate about a responsible life. You know?
Before retirement homes old people used to retire to the woods. Sometimes they’d just go crazy, senile, and run off to the woods like an old cat does. Old people used to actually return to nature and die peacefully, in the woods.
I love seeing those amber alerts when an elderly person has gone missing from a retirement home. It’s like, “you go, dude!” He’s deserved it.
I’m thinking of my retirement plans. I want to completely unplug, live in a heavily wooded area and build a tiny 17th century-style home with a fire pit for cooking and heating… a well… a garden. Forage. No car. Use a bicycle to get to my doctor appointments. I only want to be responsible for myself in my own universe, not the universe created by those before and around me.
Until then downgrade my life and make just enough money to feed my family, live modestly in a tiny hippy town and make our own clothes. There’s something compelling about living a life on the edge of poverty intentionally, but with a steady income.