Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time, I saw two spooks fighting, which wasn’t scary. It was more like a video—the ones that supposedly showed frightening events, like the video of the creepy creature that swooped around the Palisades before that massive fire that upset all the celebrities.

However, it seemed odd that a child would fake a video of something so far away on their cell phone, flapping around and gliding, all black, like an air-borne demon. If you were to fake a video about something this alarming, wouldn't you do a better job of it? Especially with all that AI technology available to help you? We have no reason to upset celebrities, you know. I'm just saying.

Let's take another look at those street spooks outside my home. As always, I should have whipped out my phone to video them, but I only thought of it later.

One spook said, "I know about you!”

I was unsure whether his words were for me or the other spook.

The other just looked and stared. So, the first one who spoke said it louder. “I know a lot about you!”

Perhaps I've watched too many paranormal videos and become numb to the unusual. However, I'm past caring about privacy. Alexa and Google see when I come and go, and my loyalty cards track my purchases. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. So, it didn't feel threatening, resulting in no confrontation—just a one-sided conversation. I told them they weren’t spies, this wasn’t frightening, and I didn’t care.

They said, "OK. This is not a fight; something is missing, and you can go away." Hush, I said before I left. My dad often shared this wisdom: the less said, the better.

The next day, I was in my studio, in front of my latest canvas, when they came. "Could you paint a scene for us?" they said. Hmm, I thought. "What do you like?"

"Peace and contentment," they crowed.

"You can’t paint that," I said. They looked at each other. They seemed contented and peaceful. It was like they were friends suddenly or something. So, I asked them. "How did you make up?"

"Everything is made up," they said.

Fine. I said. "So, what is the point?"

They looked at each other.

"No point," they said.

I extend my hands to the hundreds of paintings everywhere. Paintings that I cared about that took me years to paint. "So, this is all pointless?" I say.

"Hardly!" They answered. "We are the point."

"Oh, I see!" I said. "Everything revolves around you two?"

"You too," they said.

Ahem, I’m thinking, if life is a riddle, are these two jokesters the punchline? But I don’t tell them. You know, live and let live. To each their own. Whatever kills you makes you stronger. Well, not exactly.

Then I think for a bit with them staring at me. "You know," I said. "I liked it better when you were fighting. The rest makes no sense to me."

"It's not supposed to make sense," they both said.

"So that is what is missing?" I ask.

"Huh?" They both practically yelled. One of them steps closer to me. It’s the bigger one that wants to hit me. He comes close and shows me what he thinks is his fist.

"Nothing is missing. It all makes sense!" he yells. Then he says that my obsession with the paranormal made them make a house call out of curiosity. Do you know your friendly neighborhood paranormal inspectors and their best safety practices?"

I say, "I'm way past that now. I've stopped watching all those videos. I don't believe in the paranormal. Something new has entered my life to replace all that. Would you like to hear about it?"

But they disappeared, which was so rude.

Two days after the spooks arrived, the next day was scorching. Um, how many days has it been? When steam rises above the pavement, it messes with your brain. I was supposed to see them again, but I finked out. I'm unsure why. Anyway, fink is an old word that rhymes with “think.” Also, the word "stink." And rinky-dink. I cheaped out. Your actions reveal your distaste, like not wanting to think about something. I could have kicked myself. But that would have hurt. And questions about ultimate meaning and purpose in life should never hurt because the truth is always beautiful. Right? RIGHT?

So, I imagined the perfect answer: Why discuss this if all is well? Everything is fine. I mean, why are so many books written about how to live? We don't need answers or questions. Time itself is a product of quantum entanglement. It doesn’t exist, but we exist somehow. If time is fake, our lives are bogus, too. So boo hoo! Make the best of things and shut your trap already.

"But we exist," you say. "And there are problems...

"Is it real even when it’s fake?" I ask. "Let's dive deeper, crash through rinky-dink into the clear expanse of utter blue nothingness. How do we know we exist? It makes me think of a popular movie involving red and blue pills. Considering this, the movie replaces one reality with a fake one that seems better despite its falsehood; that’s fine if you enjoy eating gruel and living in a submarine. But Neo goes from one fake reality to another without skipping a beat?"

But you have a busy life. There is not enough time to deal. So, I go looking for the spooks.

They’re in my backyard. "How did you get here?" I ask. "The bar is closed, the wait staff has gone home. Your favorite no-nothing is here?"

"We can go anywhere," they say.

So I mentioned that since time doesn't exist or is an illusion, we are trapped in a spider's web, compelled to live inauthentic lives due to our lack of understanding. This somewhat aligns with religion, of all things. Christianity asserts the existence of eternity, claiming that time is a construct rather than the ultimate reality. Who would have thought that could happen? I mean, the people who believed in this stuff weren't scientists! And they felt this life was not entirely real thousands of years ago!

"Did you find peace and contentment?" I ask the spooks. "Nobody else has. Oh, they do for a short while. But it never lasts. And we all know it never lasts even when we are children."

"You are but a child!" snorted the big one with the fake fists. "I know all your thoughts. We never were looking for anything. We accept life exactly as it is!"

"Huh?" I say. "Are you saying you're not truthful about discovering the meaning of life?"

"We’re spooks," they said. "What do we know about the meaning of life?"

"You may now fight," I said. "Put your dukes up!"

What a bunch of cowards. They could only repeatedly say, “I know a lot about you," as my fists swished through them. I stopped when I got out of breath.

"It's hardly friendly to say you know a lot about a stranger," I protested as I gasped for air. "So, you are not looking for anything. Just knowledge?"

They both sat down. On my patio set. Not in the chairs, mind you. On the glass table. Which was annoying. Maybe I should be their host. Get them drinks. Tell some jokes.

"Lighten up a little?" One of them suggests.

"Oh, so you read minds?" I answer.

"That’s how we know everything!" The other excitedly says.

"But life's meaning eludes you," I said.

"Meaning what?" They both asked.

"Look, I’m looking," I answered. "Currently, I’m a Roman Catholic. But here’s the issue: knowing is one thing; discussing life’s meaning is another. Does that sound right to you? If you challenge others to consider your viewpoint, they might criticize you for discussing it, as if you’re some kind of nut for even bringing up the topic. Also consider this: the average person spends more time planning their vacations than exploring whether life has any meaning. And dying is quite the trip. But how many people prepare for it?"

The spooks yawned. "You’re boring us," they said. "That's why we kept saying we know everything about you. You can only bore us constantly!"

They laughed so much at that point that a screeching, sickly coughing soon followed. I thought they might retch at the end, so I waited until they calmed down.

"You know you're just like most people who think they know everything about life?" I said. "What a sick joke! The fact that you are so easily bored proves you do not know nearly as much as you think."

For once, they had nothing to say. I thought they were pretty dumbfounded, which made me smile. As they disappeared, I said: "Best wishes for finding peace and contentment. Scary times are ahead."