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HELLO DDR'S (Dedicated Description Readers)!!
A dog doesn't understand when it's dying... This thought has been stuck in my head for the last hour or so and it makes me very sad. :-( But why? Sometimes, understanding can be painful. I fear death because I know it's coming, but a dog doesn't. A dog is happy to the end. I feel like there's a lot we don't understand, so we try to come up with comforting reasons for things. We try to simplify our existence so that we can comprehend it, but what if the very nature of existing is too complex for us to understand, like a worm trying to fathom the car that is about to run it over? What if the elusive "meaning of life" that everyone seeks is just us trying to put the infinitely complex universe into our tiny, comforting box; trying to force our simple human instinct to understand and learn so we can survive and multiply onto existence itself, as if the universe was ALSO trying to do the same? I suppose we are a part of the universe, and it could therefore be argued that the universe IS conscious and trying to understand itself, like some cosmic existential crisis, but what if most things in the universe don't actually have a "meaning"? What if the very concept of meaning is something uniquely human? Something that we have created, and therefore assign?

I'm glad I get to experience the world the way that I do. I'm glad I have the ability to question, to wonder, to fear, to love, to learn, even to hurt... All these things, the good and the bad, make life what it is, and the contrast between these emotions provide us with the unique perspective that can only come from experiencing something wholly different... If I were an all-knowing, all-powerful, infinite God, I think I would get bored of existing without this contrast... Without the fear of loss providing the intense passion for life that it does; the knowledge that everything is fleeting driving me to appreciate how rare and special the few moments I have really are. I think I would want to create limits for myself so that I could better appreciate the things that I have. The more finite a resource, the more value it has, and nothing is more finite than our time on this earth. But of course I think these things, I'm human. I wouldn't know if there were a better way to exist because I've never experienced being anything other than a human, with all the evolutionary instincts that have compelled my species for millions of years.

I THINK I'm glad I'm not a dog... then again, sometimes I think it would be nice to go through life without worry about the future, without this intense, frustrating, infuriating drive to create SOMETHING, ANYTHING, To find some way to leave my mark on this world even after I pass, as if I get to prolong my existence through the memory of others. How nice it must be to just... live. Every day. Without ever thinking of what has been or what could be. Without feeling guilty for just laying around and being unproductive. Without trying to calculate the best path, or constantly wondering what you could have done better... Or what you should be doing now. If simply existing was all we were meant to do, shouldn't we be content just doing that? What if the very thing we all seem to fight against (anxiety, frustration, a feeling of worthlessness) is a necessary part of the drive that has gotten us this far as a species? What if we're just in the "pupa" stage of our existence (both collectively as a species, or as individuals)? What if when we FINALLY grow into what we were meant to be, we will experience true peace? I hope so... I hope the journey has a beautiful, satisfying conclusion that makes everything we've been through worth it in the end.

Ok, goodnight.

~Gabe