In our most pessimistic (or realistic?) moments, we are sure that at any given time the things we have come to depend on, the truths we have come to believe to be unshakeable, the certainties we have built our lives on can unravel, bursting into pieces. Whatever it is that we find familiar, whatever it is that is known and obvious have a way of being unmasked, and revealing just how thin the ground we have heedlessly danced on. It was just moments ago that we are so secured, so certain, so in place, and now it comes flying apart at the seams, and so do we.
How then shall we live when at any time everything can crumble, leaving nothing but the debris of what was and what will never be? Do we dare to tread on grounds known to cave in at the most inopportune of times? Shall we always laugh so carelessly, and fling ourselves headlong at every moment when almost always pain, darkness seems to lurk at every corner; eclipsing the world we had no right to be so hopeful about?
Yet strangely, strangely, there is no comfort in the promise of immutability – that the world exists in constancy, that our lives will always be the same. There is something terrifying in the thought that who we are, what we are, and what makes us what we are will never change. There is something dreadful in the idea of being unaltered through life’s many passages. There is something horrifying in the thought that tomorrow and the rest of the days of our lives will exactly be the same as today - an endless, tedious compilation of meaningless hours, as we play an insignificant role in an inconsequential existence. No passion. No new discoveries. No travels. And you die completely forgotten, unknown, a merciful end to a feeble life.
And so we stand in the precipice of uncertainty, with only what might be a foolish hope to keep us from falling. We straddle the worlds known to change, shift, and alter with a ruthless trust that while everything may change at any given moment, we know that we are here for a reason, and so we will not let go. We will stand where we are, not paralyzed by the uncertainties, or the vagueness of our future. We will not just surrender in nihilistic cynicism just because we have come to accept just how perilous our lives actually are. We will stake our claim, no matter how temporary, how fleeting, because this is where we are. We are here. We exist, and we will make very minute count.
How then shall we live when at any time everything can crumble, leaving nothing but the debris of what was and what will never be? Do we dare to tread on grounds known to cave in at the most inopportune of times? Shall we always laugh so carelessly, and fling ourselves headlong at every moment when almost always pain, darkness seems to lurk at every corner; eclipsing the world we had no right to be so hopeful about?
Yet strangely, strangely, there is no comfort in the promise of immutability – that the world exists in constancy, that our lives will always be the same. There is something terrifying in the thought that who we are, what we are, and what makes us what we are will never change. There is something dreadful in the idea of being unaltered through life’s many passages. There is something horrifying in the thought that tomorrow and the rest of the days of our lives will exactly be the same as today - an endless, tedious compilation of meaningless hours, as we play an insignificant role in an inconsequential existence. No passion. No new discoveries. No travels. And you die completely forgotten, unknown, a merciful end to a feeble life.
And so we stand in the precipice of uncertainty, with only what might be a foolish hope to keep us from falling. We straddle the worlds known to change, shift, and alter with a ruthless trust that while everything may change at any given moment, we know that we are here for a reason, and so we will not let go. We will stand where we are, not paralyzed by the uncertainties, or the vagueness of our future. We will not just surrender in nihilistic cynicism just because we have come to accept just how perilous our lives actually are. We will stake our claim, no matter how temporary, how fleeting, because this is where we are. We are here. We exist, and we will make very minute count.
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