My best wishes to anyone that has been impacted by the events in Boston. Please stay safe, and take care of each other!
It’s been a scary week so far, which naturally leads to scary thoughts. Whenever a tragedy happens like this in the world, I always find my thoughts wandering to my own mortality. The understanding that one day I will die, and it is inescapable. I don’t believe actively in any faith. If I had to give a name to what I believe in, it would be “The Unknown,” because I cannot know everything, and thus anything is possible and I cannot be certain of anything. I have faith that my understanding and perception of the world is only entirely true for me. I will never be able to experience the world as someone else, and as a result the only perception I can know with conviction is my own — and even that I am still figuring out!
Having faith that I cannot know anything for certain makes the concept of death sometimes very frightening, because the only thing I believe about it is that I will not know what it will be like until I experience it. Will I go to an afterlife, and be judged? If so, by which of the hundreds of rules that exist in the philosophies of men — or by none of them? Will I be reincarnated? If so, that has already happened, and I do not remember any of those past lives, which means my present life will be dead even if my soul lives on. Or perhaps I will just stop, in which case I will not be capable of caring, because I will not exist. And I think the concept of not caring about my own existence is the most frightening one of all.
I’ve always had this quiet feeling that my life will be short. I think that’s part of why, despite all the patterns I have that normally would stand in the way, I’ve just started the projects I wanted to, rather than wishing I was able to start. I don’t feel like I have the time to waste on wishing. And I’m always afraid of dying before I had a chance to finish these stories. I wouldn’t want to leave you without an ending. And there’s so many stories I want to tell. I just hope I live long enough to tell them all, but that may be a hopeless desire, because as soon as I finish one story, a new one fills my mind. I hope that I will always be telling stories, which also means constantly living with the fear that I will never finish them. Or learning to put that fear to rest.
I don’t have any good questions today, I’m afraid. Too many strange thoughts, and all of a grim nature. Take care of each other. Surround yourself with people that understand what love is, and don’t waste your time with people that hurt you. Find what you love and do it, work towards your dreams instead of wishing they would come to you. Our time on this earth may be short, but we have the power to make it meaningful, if only to ourselves. Let’s be magnificent.