…death, of course. It always has, and always will be. We don’t like to think about it, I get it, but come to think of it…
What, shall survive, anyhow, at the end?
And by ‘at the end’ I mean, in the entire universe. We might conceive everlasting life with transhumanist faiths and the like, but how could that be possible in any case, in an universe that is slowly but surely, dying, decaying?
Therefore, in any case, most probably than not, our species will be gone by then… The fate of our fathers, never finished. They, have been born, again, and again, and again, aging, time over once more, meeting their fates, together with us.
New ones are born, other ones become star-dust, and yet we consistently believe that we ‘remain here’, but for what? To do what? To receive more pleaseantry and flattery of corporations? To be blindfolded unto thinking that living inside capitalism is the ultimate flair of benefactor in our society? What’s been left left?
We keep chasing stuff, hoping that there exists a God, expecting for recompensation for being alive, we are eager to hope, and to hope we seek. And I find it marvellous that we strive and try, to keep ourselves alive and try to make ends meet and somehow when we can, we look unto others and try to make them go.
We care for one another, or that’s what fathers were expected to do. If not them, then some other earthly figure to accompany us in this journey throughout this world. A teacher. A friend. A partent. Hell, even a pet. We long for company.
And yet, the fate of this world, the fate of our existence tears us apart… So what might be left, anyhow? I don’t like to sound a pessimist here, but I like to consider upon the possibilities…
Of course, things will dwindle and the epoch will fade in due time. But not merely because of that you see people relentlessly convulsioning and beheading themselves that their life is vanishing. On the contrary, some people find very much a means to an end, and a will to drive their lives when confronted with mortality. When subdued that, indeed, it is going to end, maybe sometimes sooner than expected.
And sometimes, that’s when it clicks. That no matter how much money or bills we pay, what do we do, indeed, the indifference upon our own very lives cannot be overstated. We will perish. But a of yet, along the way, if you too are reading these lines my fellow reader, you still heave a breadth of life within yourself.
You still have purpose.
You are still looking for something, or yet, you wouldn’t keep going on rummaging stuff after stuff, looking for something to replenish you, to give you a drive to keep going.
Why do we keep going? If you are anything like me, because life must be lived, but even more than that… If you keep going on, and if you embark the glimpse of being a father you go on for them. Your own dwelling. You go on because you have someone to care and cater to. They depend on you.
Now, and here’s a stretch, but what if… (and this is a food for thought), just what if… the entirety of the rest of human life and the future predecessors that still ought to come, does too depend upon, a little tiny bit, upon you and me, my friend? We do not, as of yet, know it… But it might as well be true. We, being fathers of some kind to a whole existence, not bound by blood, but by the things we’ve created and throghout a world which we’ve left as a form of inheritance for the newcomers to abject upon it.
How are we catering upon it all? On one hand, giving way to our own selfish means, whilst on the other giving new predispositions for the future to come to blossom somehow, if in any case?
We are the fate of our fathers, and the continuity of their existence aswell.
Not just us, you and me, but everyone else too.
It has always been like this… We’ve just become blindfolded by the very many things we are expected to take care of in our mundaine, day-to-day life…
But if we take a small time to think, we’ll observe that in all due time, time will sink.
Think, a little bit, and break the pattern of automaticity. Read stories like Asimov’s Last Question, or Faith of our Fathers from Phillip K. Dick, and indulge in imagination, confrontation with the everyday tasks that so much wear us out. Take a moment to wander within the confines of your mind, and see of how it is capable of more than merely following orders or expecting to pay for bread.
We are capable, with the right assailment of interactions between beings to build thing unimaginable a few centuries ago, and yet we are still mortals. But even so, in some way, and in such cases, we can maybe give a dose of faith for the ones to come, of a fate that they too, soon, shall inherit from us.
Of being fathers of our creations, and giving birth to a future world, in which, many of us will continue on living, not really knowingly aware of each and all of the ones previously that had inhabited this planet, but that, to some extent, are, or rather were, the fathers of our own kind, the humankind.
I guess I can digress a little more now.
I hope you have a good one.
Paece.