Funerial Funk

Here's a morbid thought to contemplate at 5 o'clock in the morning: how many people would attend my funeral? I don't think there'd be many people: my extended family (30 or so), my colleagues (a handful) and that's pretty much it.

I don't think that the value in this exercise is to measure my popularity at a given point in time. I wilfully avoid many social situations because I know I will get sucked into the quotidian drama that drives it: the gossip, the office politics, the intrigue. Though perhaps inane, these things are avoided because they are captivating. They raise the stakes of whatever game we choose to play by injecting drama into the narrative we see ourselves live.

I find it harder to be a part of that and follow my path. Yes, there's ample room for balance by attending the occasional get together, office party, and so on. However I find that right now my path has led to a rather solitary, contemplative existence. I have allowed my social connections to wither away.

This speaks to what our identity consists of. I am not just 'me' but also the social network I am embedded in. So much so, that our supposedly individual identity changes depending on the context in which it is "plugged in". In other words, we change to fit in. Some of us change our behaviours a little more, some of us a little less. We change because our context changes. And since this is the case, it's hard to define who we are without defining our context. And if that's the case, how separable are the two?

A long-standing desire of mine has been to connect on the basis of these ambitions; to connect with other writers, thinkers, musicians. I've made excuses as to why this hasn't happened e.g. the population is too small to find anyone who's interested in the unconventional. But at the end of the day the truth is that I haven't forged connections because I haven't put in the effort, and not putting in the effort has been a choice I made.

You have to guard against the victim mindset. The moment you feel that sense of "woe is me" is the moment you're giving yourself up to some higher power and thus, abdicating responsibility and response-ability. There's wisdom in acknowledging a choice, there's power in owning that choice and there's freedom in accepting the consequences of that choice.

Which brings me back to my funeral. If I had a heart attack and died today, attendance would be sparse. I'm sure I would be dearly missed by a few, by those most important to me. They wouldn't talk about what a great funeral it was and how the church was overcrowded, but popularity is not the point of my existence right now.

What'd be a shame is if I were just thought of as a good son, brother and colleague. Those are all fine things to be, to be sure, but there's this part of me that yearns to create and share his creations. A part of me that wishes his tombstone would include the words: "Writer" and "Funky-ass bassist and musician".