I think about death and dying and life and living. The bane of human existence, of being conscious is precisely this. Not the death and dying or the life and living part. But the thinking and feeling of this undeniable truth.
One more thing has started tacking itself to my unoriginal thoughts - the shortness of it all.
What a fucking shitshow.
Life no longer seems long and endless or whatever I believed it was, previously. Now human beings are fragile, fragile creatures. Like a hummingbird with a little light inside them, flapping its wings for 10 or 20 seconds before suddenly dying, no longer existing, its place taken by dust and light and another hummingbird.
I catch myself thinking these unoriginal thoughts - my unoriginal musings taking me nowhere new, nowhere fun. But in the last few months or maybe weeks, something floated by and brought my boring train of thought to a screeching halt. If life is short and we die and cease to exist before we can fully even comprehend who we are then perhaps our duty is to treat each other well. Or maybe it's just what I must do, regardless of whether it's a duty or obligation. Treat people well. Starting with my family. Treat them better. Hold the light inside everybody preciously.
Maybe that's the point of existence. Not to create something great. Or to enjoy life. Definitely not to be brave and take on whatever shit life throws at us. Maybe the point of existence is to treat each other like a precious little light.
UPDATE: Just a day later, this reached my inbox. Here's the Marginalian/Maria Popova with her deep insights on the same topic.
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