A few years ago, on Christmas Eve, my family engaged a discussion on the nature of the afterlife. My uncle memorably suggested, "I believe, when we're born we forget... and when we die, we remember." Though perhaps not an entirely unique proposition, the nature of what it means to be alive (or even Being itself) and what it means to cease existence has been the pensive essay of nearly every great mind and man alike.
I have always been struck by the strange kinship between things in this world. Everything - from the tiniest cell to the tallest mountain - seems to possess a token of being traceable to me. As if we equally share in this existence. Indeed, it seems undeniably so. In relation to our observation, the web of the spider appears quaint against the anatomy of the bicycle, with little explanation as to why.
But from what do we come and whereto do we go? We are each constructed from atoms concocted in the hearts of nubile stars that emerged millions of years after the Big Bang, or so the accepted theory goes. We are, therefore, recycled. In this regard, ourselves, the web, and the bicycle are equals. And what becomes of the us once the atoms fall away, to become other things all together? May the memories of a stone or an insect somehow find their way, however subtly, into our minds? Do the emotions of a long-since moldered tree contribute to your overall disposition? How many lives do you suppose exist inside you?
Perhaps, when everything is said and done, we each revert to a primordial spiritual gumbo from which all that is has its emergence. Not in a physical sense, but a transcendent one, in which all that may be comprehended resides - all truths, all knowledge, all understanding. Perhaps that is what it truly means to remember.
When We're Born We Forget And When We Die We Remember
Curious
This here flesh
This touch I've here received
Why do I feel as though I've awoken
From an endless sleep?
The world is filled with something dull
A light
Not quite as bright
My eyes are having trouble adjusting
To these curious sights
Deja vu
Is that you I'm feeling?
New faces I've never seen
Yet I could have sworn I passed you
In an endless dream
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I have always been struck by the strange kinship between things in this world. Everything - from the tiniest cell to the tallest mountain - seems to possess a token of being traceable to me. As if we equally share in this existence. Indeed, it seems undeniably so. In relation to our observation, the web of the spider appears quaint against the anatomy of the bicycle, with little explanation as to why.
But from what do we come and whereto do we go? We are each constructed from atoms concocted in the hearts of nubile stars that emerged millions of years after the Big Bang, or so the accepted theory goes. We are, therefore, recycled. In this regard, ourselves, the web, and the bicycle are equals. And what becomes of the us once the atoms fall away, to become other things all together? May the memories of a stone or an insect somehow find their way, however subtly, into our minds? Do the emotions of a long-since moldered tree contribute to your overall disposition? How many lives do you suppose exist inside you?
Perhaps, when everything is said and done, we each revert to a primordial spiritual gumbo from which all that is has its emergence. Not in a physical sense, but a transcendent one, in which all that may be comprehended resides - all truths, all knowledge, all understanding. Perhaps that is what it truly means to remember.
When We're Born We Forget And When We Die We Remember
Curious
This here flesh
This touch I've here received
Why do I feel as though I've awoken
From an endless sleep?
The world is filled with something dull
A light
Not quite as bright
My eyes are having trouble adjusting
To these curious sights
Deja vu
Is that you I'm feeling?
New faces I've never seen
Yet I could have sworn I passed you
In an endless dream
Subscribe to the YouTube channel and Like my videos!
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