I woke this morning with a determination previously unknown to me at such an early hour. 6am the clock face read, red with a new message: Happy Birthday, Love mom.
Out of the blankets, I moved into the living area of my domicile. Rather than moving directly into the consumption of eggs, of unfertilized animal flesh, I prepared myself a bowl of porridge. As the bowl of water and packet contents spins amid the hum of the machine, I poured and mixed myself one-half dose of protein powder with water. I stir it and I drink it down with a multivitamin.
The machine beeps at me. I look back at it with the same determined disposition which I wear as I spoon the mixture into my mouth. Very little chewing occurs.
After a couple bouts of jumping push-ups, and a double set of crunches in between, I find myself sitting on the floor of the shower, water pouring over my flattened hair, following the contour of my face, down to my chin, and pouring like a faucet between my crossed legs onto the shower floor.
It is at this point, when I am feeling preternaturally low to the ground, in this my morning ritual, that I contemplate my existence as one might regard a regular object in a way that denies its regularity.
Though I look back at my life, and I see so many days, and so many interactions, and so many people, I here wonder: I so wonder, what if this is not the 10,226th day of my existence… but that it is my first.
I do not believe this to be the case, do not misunderstand my thought experiment.
But what if the now is a fleeting frame of consciousness which takes over from the last, and that each day which follows a day is a new day in a real sense, one overlooked by every single living breathing thinking person on this planet ever since we began to construct our selves as the persons which we dress, and to one another address.
What if the man that I am now, being the totality of every day which came before, is a brand new man. What if this being which I now regard as myself (as my self), with which I regard the world is this new thing, and that the entire existence which preceded this day of moments is, in a sense, preformed. What if my past is the determination of my course, formed, packaged and handed to me with my first conscious moment upon returning to this world of light, sound, substance and thought covered by bed sheets and waning dream remnants.
Well, lest I waste another moment with this meandering thought, I shall bid thee adeu, and perhaps I shall get some important work done. For, as this may be my first day, so too might it be my last.
To you all, I wish a good day, good thoughts, indeed a good life.