Between breath and trees, glances and stars, the paradox of our mortal bodies and immortal creations dances upon our visage.
Doomed to die, but graced to live. We each have our cut of the pie: a fraction of time on this planet, yet with that fraction, we can pursue what fill us with fire and spread a flame that could burn for centuries following our death. There is no telling how a quiet conversation, a short story, a piece of music, or even an experience shared between few people, can transcend our practical understanding of time and extend into the rest of humanity. Regardless of how connections and consequences ripple through time, we can always look toward our happiness and fulfillment, knowing we have every right and excuse to realize them at all costs.
If we are to examine our small amount of time here, compared to other creatures of this earth, all we have to do is glance at trees. Their strength, vitality, and seemingly everlasting nature is literally sprouting all around us, and countless of these innocent little things will outlast us with their comparative simplicity. We may even, literally, feed and nourish patches of soil that give rise to one.
Even in the darkest mysteries, there are chances of light behind the surface of what appears terrifying. An existence beyond death cannot be fathomed, and what that may or may not entail is not predictable. So to worry about it, or to fear it at all, is unnecessary.
Are we to be afraid? Are we to fear our mortality and the what is beyond us? Are we to avoid thinking of death, because it is unfathomable? Shying away from its contents because, on the surface, it seems daunting?
Not at all. Fear, in countless modern examples, is as fruitless as worrying about what is beyond death. In fact, our mortality is what makes us so fiery. So damned determined to accomplish so much in so little time. The nature of our short lives is an inspiration in it of itself, for us to defeat our immense doubts, fears, and reservations of the future, to shatter what is behind us and run toward the next challenges.
Just think of it. A lost, wandering ghost who has never had a body is floating aimlessly in a forest of thoughtlessness. A being of light approaches it, and says, "Take this. It is a body of the stars, of the flames that created this earth, of the same substance of everything around you, yet changed and altered to be uniquely you."
That spirit, just like us as children, would run squealing into the forest with this newfound template for exploration. It is only until our innocence is shattered, do we forget how fortunate we are; yet in that same depth of consciousness, we find more shades of gratitude in remembering.
Losing innocence grants us the mind to be grateful for its temporary existence. In losing one gift, we gain another.
The simple point is, we have an opportunity to be the heroes of our own stories. Every day, we wake up with insecurities, anxieties, worries, reservations. Ever day, we wake up with possibilities, aspirations, and small hopes. What should we focus on? To squander this brief opportunity is, in many ways, a little despicable. Yet, we have that choice to do anything we wish with our story. Will we be our own hero?
Let's go test some boundaries. Let's go exploring. Let's find some direction. Let's live before we die. Let's feed the fire of our mortality.