The passing of friends

Subject: The passing of friends

It's strange to think of a world without Seamus or Bill, without Garrick, all people who's lives whist so different they never the less lived those lives in somewhat the same way.
 It's a trial this life of ours, a trail littered with more or less the same debris, the ups and downs, trials and tribulations which we are all prone to,  yet each seen so differently by the participant, each with different ideas, different objectives. As they scraped and bumped along the stream of life, carried this way and that by the eddies and currents sometimes close to an objective, sometimes far and getting further they each experienced that individuality which for them made them feel special. 
Each had a vision of themselves, a sense of who they were as they conjectured themselves in the eyes of those around them. Sometimes the vision was distorted and inappropriate, sometimes it glorified an aspect of their lives and and they brushed under the carpet the rest, not in any wilful disagreement of a duty but in a sort of blindness to reality, as if reality was too hard.
The frustrations that man is heir to in this life of starts and stops, of hopes and disappointments. Looking back one sees the pivotal points in the journey the pinch points and the helter-skelter moments when all was good and attainable, when ones energy and indefatigable self belief were enough to blast aside any obstruction and of course those other times when you descended into yourself to nurse your bruised ego.
Most mornings were sunny and full of upland promise, there was enough positivity to see you over the metaphorical bumps, even the traffic jam and being late was treated phlegmatically the event seen in the round. Perhaps the view that events would progress without us was an omen for the time when we are not there and things could go on without our input. 
Perhaps the self centred importance we create around ourselves must at all times be tempered with the knowledge that we are not indispensable and in fact sometimes just the opposite when we offer little more than the dull thud of our presence.
Hamlets soliloquy "To be or not to be". Is best imbibed over a strong cup of tea or something stronger. The bard gets right down to the nitty gritty of a life of struggle, or rather the struggle with life in his reflective speech of a disconsolate prince. To fight or give in to sleep but there's the rub, who knows what dreams may come.
I'm lucky I don't dream much and with my blog my day starts by describing  my troubles or achievements in the form of the third person which is very cathartic. When I read or hear of something I feel is important I can't wait to put my own take on it and therefore seem, in some way to be engaged. The more one engages, even if only mentally, the reward of staking out your territory, making your views known and feeling stronger for doing so, is invariably good.
Much of ones opinion is based on your own life experience and the events which have formed your life have given what many of us living in a similar emotional geographical area thousands of miles apart, still how similar our lives have been. The confirmation that you often speak for many gives you the optimism to carry on. 
Logged into the archival continuum that is 'cloud storage' these words will be around for a long time, like the diaries of old, which the historian sifts trough to better understand antiquity. Today's event, ancient by tomorrow soon becomes irrelevant.