Feeling · Life

une autre année

The thing that we started looking for since the moment we were born.  The genetic instincts embedded drive us forward.

What is that? 

It has been another year of my life, and what have I learned from experiences? Except for getting older biologically, what have I gained? What kind of networks of neurons did I construct? How about the information carried by the photons that fell onto my retina and activated my cone cells? What about the sound delivered by the mechanical vibration of air molecules that pressed my malleus and incus? Did any of those make a difference, or are they part of the paramount pile of dust buried in the trace?

What have I been doing as time flies? I tried to cheated time, but what I have been cheating is myself. So, why bother then? 

I remember those beginnings of summer; I was longing for the future, dreaming all those possibilities and all the wonders of the world. Then this is dying out gradually, fading like an old photo of your childhood. Irreversible as the increasing entropy.

Well, memories are the greatest illusionists; you should never trust them. 

I love what Albert Camus said

“Tu ne pourras jamais être heureux si tu continues à chercher de quoi est fait le bonheur. Tu ne pourras jamais vivre si tu cherches le sens de la vie.”

There is no point in looking for something that does not exist. Live is not about searching, and it’s about experiencing, as we are flawed; we are in our eternal human predicaments; we are the creation of chaos and randomness (yet not so random); we fight for our “free will.”

I guess I will stop murmuring and perhaps stop everything I am doing and just enjoy the moment I spent another year in this Universe. I have experienced another year of being alive, and this is a miracle itself. Isn’t it?

 

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