Anyways, this is my attempt to be simple about me; a try at taking myself, my whole character, my whole thought and being, and putting it to paper. Some say its therapeutic, that it can help to alleviate the stresses that come with everyday life. I suppose that can be true. Really, that was the entire point of this blog in the first place: to place a copy of me somewhere, for myself or others to later read and recall the memories. The problem with that is that it gets too tough to really remember to keep it up. Life, school, work, love, it all gets in the way and pushes plans back to the point of forgetting. Hell, right now I should probably be working on a 5 page essay due tomorrow morning at 9 am. I just don't want to right now is the thing. It's not a problem of laziness, or that I don't know the material that should be presented. It's more of just me becoming self-aware.
Well that's slightly confusing and out of left field, isn't it? Humans are considered to be innately self-aware, to hold the cognitive ability to see themselves as a separate entity, and to be able to say "I am me." I know that, and I understand who I am. Perhaps self-aware was the wrong word to use. Either way, what I mean when I am becoming self-aware is that I'm finally beginning to see myself in context to this insane time we call life. I don't necessarily know what I'm going to do, or how I'm going to live life, but I can actually see myself. The past has become a dark memory, a place where, when I turn to it, I see grief, love, ignorance, even slight hatred. Why was I so hateful? It wasn't a kind of hate where problems were always happening. No, it was a hatred of life, as messed up as that is. I hated how life was, how it could be so unbalanced, where the weak were made to suffer while the strong prospered. Life, to me, was a completely unnecessary step that was, keeping with simplicity, stupid. Why was there a need to do this? It wasn't suicidal, nor anything of that sort. It was just a simple misunderstanding of life. It was the product of misguided teaching and a more or less sheltered existence for the first 18 years of this crazy existence.
This is not to say that I didn't have access to some sort of outside knowledge that would have aided my problematic thought processes. I could easily have read hundreds of books and found out the thoughts and ideas that people, many times more intelligent than myself, and been able to formulate some idea as to why it was that I was so hateful. But I didn't. This isn't meant to be any sort of "loss of faith" journal. It's just something that I've realized, and has aided in my relative love of life. My own thoughts of infallibility, though now a shadow of its former self, helped to keep me pushing forward hatefully, waiting til I would be done with it and just move on to perpetual bliss and prosperity. I wanted to just go through the motions.
If you're still with me, good, because I am actually coming to a point. Moving away, and being on my own, has really allowed me to expand my own personal knowledge base, as well as understanding, of how life really plays out. Sure, it was simple to understand evolution for me, and I completely believed it since a younger age. My problem was in trying to decide what was right. As simple as that. And this is where my infallibility met its match: for both to be true, both must also be false. No need to get into a infinite regression, as removing one will not cause the other to fail, but in fact make more sense. Really, this epiphany, this rapid realization suddenly changed my life. It was no longer a hatred of what was happening. Sure, not all possibilities that could happen will, and a lot of detrimental things that could happen do. And yes, that does indeed suck royally when it hits home.
But after that initial shock, that punch to the ego, a wonderful thing happens: happiness. Not the sort of happiness that one feels when brushing a loved one's face or kissing someone you have always wanted to. Rather, its a sort of happiness that accompanies wonder and amazement. Looking into the world and realizing "holy shit, I am made up of billions of cells all holding together and using electrical firing to instruct different body parts to do what needs to be done."
Some say such a drastic simplifying of humanity obliterates the want to live, that it makes us feel so insignificant and just a happy coincidence rather than some well thought out plan. To them I say, so what? What's wrong with putting aside egos? What's wrong with replacing a hate for the world with a love for life? I still don't like what's happening in the world, but there is no need to place a hate on that fact that we are breathing, that we are amazing by-products of a vastly amazing and expanding universe. I go out into the dark, crisp night, and I look up into the stars. I think of every human being who ever was, every person who looked up at that sky and has long since crumbled to dust, and I smile. Not from some sick amusement that death is so close and inevitable, but that life is so short, and that there is far too much of a focus on where I'm going afterwords rather than enjoying what I have. I have family; I have friends; I have good health and a roof over my head. Why attempt to be so vain as to keep it forever when I only have a short time to enjoy them?
Seeing the stars let's me see my ancestors, and not just my species: I see the gigantic ovens that cooked heavier and heavier elements, thereby allowing planets to form from the sudden deaths of these stars. I see atoms continually being recycled into the universe, neither created nor destroyed. I see one of the most wonderful plays being writ before my eyes, swirling around in a space so vastly huge that a size comparison is impossible. I see a beauty that can always bring a happy tear to my eye. My consciousness doesn't need to be existent for all time, nor does it need to hate itself for being so weak and breakable. I am part of the cosmos, and the cosmos is a part of me, just as simple as that. As Carl Sagan says, we are made of star-stuff.
|Obligatory Carl Sagan picture. Wish I could of met ya old chap.|