In the first episode one of my favorite tv-series, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, the captain of the space station is in a world of timeless beings. He explains linear time to them. Then he gets taken back to the death of his wife. They say: you exist here. He breaks down and realizes they are right. Time is linear, but he lived in his past, while merely existing in the present.
I recognize that in my father. He suffers from Alzheimer’s.
Last year I spent the night at my parent’s house He said that he wanted to go home. When asked where he lives, he says he lives at number 134. His childhood home was there. When I heard him talk like this, I was brought back to the episode of Deep Space Nine. He is an old man now, but in his mind, he exists in his childhood home.
This made me realize something about myself. For a long time I existed in the time around my hysterectomy. I existed in the sadness, in the pain, in the loss.
I got out of that by focusing on the moment, and on the good that still is in my life. I exist in the here and now, most of the time, out of choice.
Where do you exist?