Oblivion

Brady Ehler, OP Contributor

Ah yes, sweet, sweet oblivion, haunter of thought, breeder of craziness, mother of fear. God damn you, Oblivion, you sick bitch.

So, what is it about the concept of oblivion that twists and molests us so? Why is “to not exist” so frightening? Is it that we won't have control if we don’t exist? Is life so fantastic that a permanent end would be tragic? Whenever these thoughts begin to trouble me, I think of eternity...beautiful, comforting, soothing, crushing, choking, horrifying eternity.

Now, I value my life enough that the con-

cept of oblivion seems unsavoury however, when compared to the concept of eternal life, it seems just fine. I know it must seem a bit harsh, but try, if you will, to grasp eternity. It wever, ever ends. There is no final goal, no ultimate prize to strive for, only an endless spiralling existence that goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and....

It would be so much simpler if the human race would accept the concept of oblivion, rather than run from it. ’m not saying run out there and blow your fuck- ing head off or anything, but if people embraced oblivion, we wouldn’t be so encumbered by religion. Maybe we

wouldn’t be so inclined to spend our lives

breaking our fucking backs to fill our unstructured time with relentless stimuli. When was the last time you or someone you know went for a walk alone, without a Discman, or a dog leash, or a destina- tion? Most of us ate scared to death of oblivion. We spend the majority of our time trying to avoid it, although we have no “proof”—other than a handful of books filled with outdated theology from the dark ages—to tell us that there is life after death. Oblivion, in one form or another, is a very strong possibility; in fact the odds ate exactly 50/50.

Wouldn’t it just be better to accept it? After all, it’s not like oblivion is inherently bad, per se. Actually, it’s completely neu- tral.

amps

Hot Mocha for the Soul

Rachel Schreyer, OP Contributor

I breathed in the salty ocean air. Ahh, Victoria. Not hailed the capital of British Columbia for nothing, it offered spectac- ular view by the water, especially at 7am. A seagull squawked as it soared overhead with another bird, both of them leading and circling one another under the morn- ing sun.

Shhh, the waves whispered. This was a reverent time. Life was just awakening. Shifting backwards, I crossed my legs and felt the log beneath me creak. The morn- ing serenity of the beach never ceased to amaze me. This was my refuge, a place to think when life got too loud. I wrapped my fingers tightly around my mocha with whip—still steaming—and slurped in a combination of the sweet cream with the brawny brown underneath. The heady fla- vor left a sugary kiss on my lips before it caressed my tongue and slid luxuriously down my throat. Decadence at its finest.

The waters lapped again, inviting me to wade in. I stretched lazily and declined the offer. Disappointed, the waves reced- ed. Splashes of gold, pink, and purple in the sky had already yielded to clear, bright light. I licked the corners of my mouth, curled my toes in the grainy sand, and downed some more coffee.

Pillow-like clouds passed by slowly. The fluff of white drifted in my coffee. Instead of taking yet another sip, I stared intently into my cup a la Nostradamus. Would the secrets of the universe be revealed unto me here? The mound of lopsided whip formed a face, with twin furrows and a slightly turn-downed mouth. I squinted at the hollow eyes and dared them to tell a story. They melted a

hovember 8/2001

little, leaving a blurred and slightly trailed edge.

Was it crying? Why was it crying? Was that an omen? I leaned forward, right up to the brim, determined to find the mean- ing of life in a cup half left. Hmm, come to think of it, life is never fair. The guy at the coffee shop didn’t give me enough

to arrange itself. His tweed jacket was out of place; his pants, too short. He had to take another step for me to realize that he had a severe limp. His right calf swung out abruptly moments before the heel hit the sand, creating an awkward-looking step. His gait resembled the screeches of an out-of-tune violin. I wondered if it

whipped cream. Maybe I should go back and complain.

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted my thoughts. Feeling slightly intruded upon—this was my quiet time to contemplate existence, after all—I looked up in annoyance. I met the warm brown eyes of a thin, middle-aged man with a prominent nose, a square jaw in need of a shave, and messy gray hair that had failed

hurt him to walk.

He grinned while staggering forward, “Beautiful morning!”

“Yeah,” I tried not to cringe and avoid- ed looking at his legs, “Gorgeous sunrise!” I was curious about his condi- tion but figured it would be rude to ask. I smiled at him instead.

“Oh, most definitely. Nothin’ like a start to a day that, y’ know. Sets things in

perspective,” he halted and flashed me a set of slightly yellow teeth. “You have a wonderful day now, miss, take care!” He wheezed and struggled on painfully. I winced as I watched him.

The soothing, rhythmic waves soon drowned out the sound of his laboured footsteps. I swallowed and glanced down at my perfectly functional, well-formed legs—legs that I’d take for granted when boarding my morning bus, grocery shop- ping, or simply pummeling the pavement for a quick jog when stressed. This man was handicapped, yet joyful. If I were to trade my appendages with his, even for a day, I’m not sure if my attitude would match his.

In my cup of coffee, still half-full, the whipped fluff melted a little more, smoothing out the frown and giving way to a smile. It bobbed peacefully within the round parameters and nodded with understanding. Musing, I took another sip; I chose to see the frown—and the frown delivered. Somebody else was able to see a smile through a trial. I think I can, too.

We humans have a funny way of see- ing only what we want to see. I guess that makes life a little easier for us—but it can complicate things too, A seagull, out of sight, let out a jubilant cry and took flight. I stood and stretched, wiggled my toes, and slipped my healthy feet back into my sandals.

Downing the rest of my coffee, I looked out into the ocean and gave thanks for the many unnoticed blessings that were in my life.

DUnEPPPess | 8