Tag Archives: life

Our significance

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Brian Cox is a brilliant scientist. I love this quote:

“There is only one interesting question in philosophy: What does it mean to live a finite, fragile life in an infinite eternal universe?“

@evancarmichael

The most interesting question in philosophy #briancox #philosophy #space #physics #existence #astronomy #foodforthought

♬ Experience (Cover Ludovico Einaudi) – 北昼

On the grand scale of the universe our planet is insignificant. But being the only species on the only planet that can grasp what the universe is… for millions of light years in any direction… makes us perhaps the most significant thing in our part of the universe.

Is something beautiful if no conscious being is around to observe it? Does anything matter if there is no appreciation of significance? Does the universe beyond this third closest rock from our sun understand laughter, love, or happiness? Beyond the life on earth, where is there any meaning? Where is there any significance to the existence of the universe?

I’m sure in a universe with trillions stars there is, has been, and will be other intelligent life ‘out there’. But we are very likely the most intelligent form of life circling around one of the 400 billion stars in our galaxy.

We create the meaning for our galaxy and for the entire universe. We embody an understanding and appreciation for life, time, and existence. It’s compelling to think that our existence on an insignificant planet in an insignificant galaxy in an insignificant part of the universe might be the most significant existence in that same universe.

“What does it mean to live a finite, fragile life in an infinite eternal universe?“

It means whatever meaning we give it… it’s as significant as we make it. Let’s appreciate that and not take it for granted. Life is beautiful, special, and so fleeting that every moment should be sacred.

Breaking Bland

I don’t know what I’ll be doing today after work, but it won’t be what I’ve done the past couple days. For two days now I’ve come home, sat on the couch, and only really got up to eat leftovers and go back to the couch… and then to bed.

It’s easy. It’s lazy. It’s unproductive. And ultimately it’s unsatisfying.

It’s ok to do for a couple days, but I can’t let myself just default to this daily. Sometimes it takes intention to change. It takes awareness and also effort. A plan helps too, but honestly I don’t have one right now. That will have to change before I get home. If it doesn’t change I’ll probably choose the bland option of doing nothing much again.

~

Breaking Bland

Breaking a bland routine is to thrive, to feel alive, rather than satisfactorily survive.

It doesn’t need to be profound, exciting, or fun. It just needs to be an evening where I don’t get home from work and think, “I’m done!”

A walk, a talk, a task with a goal will do. A chore or ‘to do’ list item will suffice too. Perhaps a recipe with flavours that are new. A book, a podcast, a meditation, a conversation with you.

The experience need not be perfect, this I understand. I just want to choose something that is more than bland.

What Is There To Fear?

Do you ever notice that people who have near death experiences seem to have a new lease on life? It makes me think that the fear around death is misguided. We shouldn’t fear death nearly as much as we should fear not living. Death is inevitable. And while I personally hope it is still quite distant, it really isn’t avoidable. What is avoidable is not really living. 

Not really living can be quite cliche. It’s living to work, not working to live; It’s counting the days to the weekend, your next vacation, or retirement; It’s eating for sustenance without enjoyment; It’s counting the minutes rather than spending them; It’s fearing to chase your dream; Wishing, but not doing; watching rather than participating; Wondering where the time went and lamenting; Hoping for different results, but not doing anything to get them. 

What is there to fear? It’s not death, it’s just not really living… which is something you always have control over. And if you take control, well then there really isn’t much to fear, is there? 

 

A thousand faces

Way back in the 1970’s my parents bought me a doll for Christmas. His name was Hugo: Man of 1000 faces. Here’s a video of him.

He was creepy, but it was fun putting disguises on him, and he really looked different depending on what you added to his face.

We are more subtle. We too have thousands of faces, we just don’t wear them externally. We hold within us past experiences that shape and mold us. We react to events, experiences, and even conversations based on our exposure to related interactions, challenges, and hardships. We are clearly rational with some responses and blindly irrational with others.

We have the patience of Job with respect to a challenging situation, and yet for a small, almost insignificant other issue we snap in anger when things don’t go as they should. We demand control in some situations and easily go with the flow in other situations. And while there may be no external reason or rationale for why we treat these situations differently, there are internal, learned reasons why we react so uniquely.

Two people go through the same hardship and one has a trauma response while the other builds resilience and confidence.

We don’t experience events equally. For one person the response to a crisis is intellectual, for another it’s intuitive, and still another an uncontrollable, visceral body response.

We see ourselves as one person but we are many. We think we respond consistently to different events but we are nuanced and actually have many faces we project. This isn’t schizophrenia, it’s life. It’s the 1,000 faces we wear. It’s the framing we have built around the past experiences we’ve had, which are totally different than everyone else, even if the experiences were similar, even for siblings who share the same events in there lives.

Maybe that’s why this creepy doll, Hugo, was so much fun to play with. He embodied the physical representation of who we really are.

Writing your own chapters

If your life were a chapter book, how many chapters would it have?

Would you choose to write about long periods of time in a single chapter? Would you provide vignettes? Would you think of your life as seasons or interludes or would it have features and long gaps between stories shared?

How complete would the story be right now?

What chapters are waiting to be written? And how long have you waited?

What would highlight in the current chapter?

Start writing.

Gone in an instant

It’s tragic when it happens. Most recently in the news it was a bridge in Baltimore. A barge lost power and hit a bridge and it collapsed, killing several workers on the bridge. One minute they are going about their job, and then their lives are over. No warning, no forethought. Living one moment, gone the next.

I was recently on vacation and watched a few sunrises. That time of day is busy for birds on the hunt for fish. There is no glare from the sun, and many small fish are feeding near the shore. Here is a slow motion video of a bird diving for food.

Imagine the life of a small fish. You are among many other fish, feeding and going about your morning, and suddenly, most abruptly, a foreign beast plunges into your world and snatches you up. Seconds later you slide down inside of a bird’s neck and into its stomach where you suffocate before being digested.

No warning, no hint of pending doom. It’s part of the life cycle of many living things. We are fortunate that it is not frequent for us as apex predators. Still, it happens, and it’s totally unfair, even random. A fall from a ladder, a car accident, an allergic reaction, a plane crash, a freak accident.

We are fortunate not to be small fish, with far greater likeliness to come to a tragic, early, unexpected demise, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be thankful for the time we are given, and appreciate the luck we have to live a good life every day that we are given. It can be seen as scary or it can be seen as cathartic… knowing that we can be gone in an instant.

So delicious

We are in Mexico and tonight we went to a small restaurant with an octopus in their logo. I took that as a hint that this might be their specialty and so I ordered an Asian Octopus appetizer. Spicy and served in a mild soy sauce it was a mouthwatering treat. I also ordered the Octopus ceviche, which again was a real palate pleaser.

I was not disappointed! The meal was wonderful. And so was the service. And so was the company. There is more than just good food that makes a meal delicious, and tonight’s meal really had everything I could ask for.

Sometimes life can be just so delicious!

The Playmaker

I watched a high school basketball game tonight. It was a blowout, ending with a score around 51-98. One kid on the winning team was a real highlight reel, with dunks, blocks, steals, 3-pointers, and despite being the biggest guy on the court, he’d bring the ball up the court sometimes, and even play the point guard position.

But of all the things he did, the highlight for me was when he’d penetrate the defence then find the open man and dish it to him for the easy basket. It wasn’t the dunks and blocks, it was being the playmaker and making sweet passes.

Teams need the clutch player that you can count on to score points, but when that clutch player is also a playmaker who makes his team play well, and who isn’t selfish, that’s a really great player. Then he’d be on the bench and he’d cheer like he’s the number one fan of the team.

In life, that’s the player to be.

This is just Canadian high school basketball, and while this kid will probably play university basketball, he’s probably not NBA material… but I’ll tell you one thing, whatever he does in life, I’d want him on my team.

Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Lying in bed, ear against my pillow. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

My heart beats in my head. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Soothing, calming, an orchestra of internal activity embodied in a single, reoccurring beat. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

A primordial drum, beating in each of us. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Our personal metronome, our connection to musical beats. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Listen to your heart. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Listen to silence between the beats. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

The spaces between the beats are what makes the beat musical. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Our personal connection between our thinking mind and our physical body. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Our personal connection to the universe, and our very existence. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

I shift my head and can no longer hear or feel the beat. Sleep prevails in silence. I will forget the sound. I will not pay attention to my heartbeat again until my ear sits on my pillow in just the right way. Or when I vigorously exercise.

My heart will continue to work, to sustain me, to feed my cells with oxygen. I don’t need to hear it for it to work. I don’t need to hear it, but when I do it reminds me of how lucky I am. It reminds of how connected I am. It calms me and reminds me that I am grateful to be alive.

Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Buh-dub. Buh-dub…

Fog and moon

A couple days ago some fog rolled in. Coming home from a dinner, my wife and o say a large coyote wandering down our street. Thankfully our daughter has already brought our cat in for the night. As we got out of our car the coyote was strolling past our driveway and I let out a little shout to ‘Keep going’, spurring it into a faster pace as it went by.

Last night I had a hot tub and the fog was still around. It was eerie seeing the bright moon through the misty fog, and it made me think about what life was like living in caves a couple hundred thousand years ago. No doors to keep out the wild animals, and all kinds of superstitions around the weather and the meaning of different events.

Back then, life was short and ailments like a tooth ache that today could be fixed with a root canal could end up being a fatal and unrecoverable infection. A bad winter could mean starvation. A pack of wild animals could wipe out an entire family. The world was a harsher, more dangerous place.

Today we sit in the comfort of our cars, our homes, and even our hot tubs. We are protected from wildlife, weather, and even other people. And when we look out at the moon on a foggy night it’s not nearly the same experience as our great ancestors. No, to us the fog and moon are an enjoyable sight, a moment to contemplate the hardships of a time long gone… from the comfort of modern amenities.