Everyone Is A Writer Now

I really must get back to my blog.
Why?
Today is Will’s birthday.
Good reason. Why else?
Fatuousness. Everyone is a writer now.
Off you go then.

Stephen Hawking recently said that everyone needs the space and time to have ideas. I agree. I have etched out my space and time. I tell a friend how I spend my days, and they say ‘Maybe you are content?’
I have no complaints about my life other than that I am none too productive but I do keep up most of my maintenance duties while procrastinating quite a bit over paperwork.

When I step out into the world and look around – a couple of times a week - I notice the people who are passing time and those who are clearly working. Mostly it is the older people who are passing time while some are struggling to get through the day. Middle age and young people seem to have a sense of purpose.
Do I have a sense of purpose?
No, but if one appears I will ask it in. Tick tock.

I remember when I had a sense of purpose and I am beginning to think it might be a biological thing linked to survival issues because one needs that sense of urgency at that time in life in order to keep going. When you become older it is not so important anymore - in an evolutionary sense. Society endorses this by doling out retirement pensions after age 60. So the earlier sense of purpose is a chemical trick because if you vividly and honestly know you will grow old and die it might take the edge off ambition. So pre-retirement people are more prone to states of illusion as an inherent biological weapon against complacency.

Why does Nature want us homo sapiens to ‘keep going’ till age 60?

Because we each need that much time (or sometimes not) to fulfil our individual life plan, the one that’s in our genes. I don’t know why.

Is that it?
Will it do?
I suppose so - as there are no standards.