This Jethro Tull song is meant to be comforting. It says that whatever troubles you might be facing you have plenty of time to work them out. Life is long and you'd see better times. However, it ends by saying that "The tune ends too soon for us all". So a discordant note in the end and I want to pick up the thread
All that is must end. We are but flickers in the dark that light up the environs for the briefest of instants before fading into oblivion. The universe barely registers our presence. It lives and breathes on a far larger scale beyond the bounds of human comprehension. There's no point in trying to do that anyway. You'd probably go insane as you realize your utter significance in the grand scheme of things.
We humans are inherently arrogant. All of us to one degree or the other have this feeling that we are important to the cosmos. We might cloak it with words like fate and destiny but these concepts by definition assume that a higher power is taking interest in our existence. God is here, there, everywhere; each individual is a part of the Parmatman, the universal sentience. Why should that be true? We've been here for barely a million years. The universe by all accounts has existed for well-nigh fifteen billion years. Mere numbers can't reflect the yawning gap that implies. And to believe that this colossal stage was prepared just for the advent of humankind is to take arrogance to the height of ludicrity.
I'm just offering a different perspective. I might very well turn out to be grossly wrong. But the devil's advocate is required at times, just to calm down emotions and bring back the discussion to a sane and rational level. I'd definitely like to believe in the infinitely comforting notion that my part has been written in the stars by some divine playwright. This notion appeals to the artist in me, but it's just too hard to digest. I'm not precluding the existence of a supra-natural consciousness, but I really don't think that my being might even register on it. I'm but the minutest of motes in the ether. The stream won't be affected whether I'm there or not.
This is not an excuse to stop striving, to give up on all that I desire from my life. It's a clarion call instead, a much needed realignment of perspectives. It heralds urgency. No benevolent presence is watching over me. I'm on my own, what I make of my sojourn on this planet is solely my prerogative. All I have is this one shot to make an impact, however ephemeral. The responsibility devolves solely on me and the constellations are just that, distant clusters of stars that are convenient excuses for incompetence.
I sometimes wonder about death. What'd happen to my sentience? Will it become a part of some greater whole or will it be cruelly wiped off the cosmic slate? The latter thought is particularly horrifying. The idea that my being - thoughts, feelings, emotions - could vanish in such an abrupt and final manner just can't be right. Existence can't be this futile. Probably that's why we seek solace in the first notion. The perpetuation of our consciousness - whatever form it might be in - is what in the end we all desire. It's, however, too convenient for me to swallow. This question is probably best left unanswered.
All that is must end. We are but flickers in the dark that light up the environs for the briefest of instants before fading into oblivion. The universe barely registers our presence. It lives and breathes on a far larger scale beyond the bounds of human comprehension. There's no point in trying to do that anyway. You'd probably go insane as you realize your utter significance in the grand scheme of things.
We humans are inherently arrogant. All of us to one degree or the other have this feeling that we are important to the cosmos. We might cloak it with words like fate and destiny but these concepts by definition assume that a higher power is taking interest in our existence. God is here, there, everywhere; each individual is a part of the Parmatman, the universal sentience. Why should that be true? We've been here for barely a million years. The universe by all accounts has existed for well-nigh fifteen billion years. Mere numbers can't reflect the yawning gap that implies. And to believe that this colossal stage was prepared just for the advent of humankind is to take arrogance to the height of ludicrity.
I'm just offering a different perspective. I might very well turn out to be grossly wrong. But the devil's advocate is required at times, just to calm down emotions and bring back the discussion to a sane and rational level. I'd definitely like to believe in the infinitely comforting notion that my part has been written in the stars by some divine playwright. This notion appeals to the artist in me, but it's just too hard to digest. I'm not precluding the existence of a supra-natural consciousness, but I really don't think that my being might even register on it. I'm but the minutest of motes in the ether. The stream won't be affected whether I'm there or not.
This is not an excuse to stop striving, to give up on all that I desire from my life. It's a clarion call instead, a much needed realignment of perspectives. It heralds urgency. No benevolent presence is watching over me. I'm on my own, what I make of my sojourn on this planet is solely my prerogative. All I have is this one shot to make an impact, however ephemeral. The responsibility devolves solely on me and the constellations are just that, distant clusters of stars that are convenient excuses for incompetence.
I sometimes wonder about death. What'd happen to my sentience? Will it become a part of some greater whole or will it be cruelly wiped off the cosmic slate? The latter thought is particularly horrifying. The idea that my being - thoughts, feelings, emotions - could vanish in such an abrupt and final manner just can't be right. Existence can't be this futile. Probably that's why we seek solace in the first notion. The perpetuation of our consciousness - whatever form it might be in - is what in the end we all desire. It's, however, too convenient for me to swallow. This question is probably best left unanswered.
2 comments:
Why must you write such long posts? Dissuading, really! Wait, I will come back in a day or so and read this.
That was VERY well said. I find myself in complete agreement of every point you raised. Loved it. You cannot imagine how much.
Post a Comment