20. 2026-08-04 / index

I rarely really expect to be here in a few years. A few days, sure, but a few years...? But then, Om took a few days off, and that was that. I hadn't heard of him once until he was gone. And my boss turns to me, flabbergasted, agawk at the idea I'll be lucky if I'm on this planet "in a few years." Won't we all be? (All lucky? Or, all here? Take your pick.)

I have almost no idea what it means in practice or in principle to put my health first. Frankly, when one textbook after the next passes down some intracultural generational wisdom I ought to integrate, I just shrug it off. Twenty or thirty sound explanations justify how things are going now, yet rather than refer to those I'd simply dismiss the question. What do I know?

Am I the professional on me? Or am I just following my deeper, inner lead? Something to which I do not feel right attributing that pronoun, "I"? And: something, or someone? Someone, or some uncountably infinite many?