The Futility Of The Cessation Of Life
Has life lost its meaning? Or did someone tear it out of the dictionary? I flip through the pages looking for something to believe in. I find death, escape and suicide, but nothing that would relieve. Then the thought crosses my mind, maybe I’m looking in the wrong place; maybe the meaning of life is to live.
– posted earlier to Twitter and Facebook
Death doesn’t signify an end, only perceptively, depending on your perception of what death is. To me, death is merely a transition from one stage to another. Nothing ever ends. Suffering never ends. It’s because we live that we suffer, but there’s nothing besides life. Death is not the opposite of life. If anything it’s a part of life. There is no opposite to life.
Life is energy, energy doesn’t cease to exist. It is only transformed. An end is just what we’d like to believe, something to look forward to, or something to dread. All humans look forward to it, consciously or not, but it’s something that will never come. There is no end, as there is no beginning. Things just go on… and on… and on… Our endless numbered days, meaningless otherwise.
Time creates the illusion of progress. Progress isn’t about how far we’ve come in how long, it’s just a motion. It’s not accomplishments, it’s just putting one foot in front of the other. Accomplishments, goals, priorities, these are all just things we’ve made up along the way to play along in this game of “life”, to make it seem meaningful, because our “intelligent” minds can’t comprehend much else.
If we were all told that life had no meaning, that we were just meant to live, not strive for anything, not fight for anything, not suffer for anything, not die for anything, would we accept that? That our lives had no meaning? That we’re nothing special? That what we do changes nothing? No, we wouldn’t.
Instead we’d continue deluding ourselves, indulging in false beliefs, and false perceptions that can’t be struck down because it’s “reality”. Reality is merely what society defines it to be. Whether or not to subscribe to society’s reality is up to you. You can create your own reality, but very few do. Why not?
Because it’s too confusing. You wonder why others don’t believe what you do, why they bother with such stupid rituals, with errands and chores, with jobs and degrees. You can’t understand why they waste their effort over such meaningless things, things given meaning only by themselves and them alone, things that mean nothing to you. The things that don’t make sense to them, make sense to you. The things that don’t make sense to you, make perfect sense to them.
That’s what it’s like for me, it’s always been, it always will. I am my own reality.