For a long time I thought our species had a way out of death: eventually we’d figure out immortality, become a multiplanetary species, and travel as far in the universe as our understanding of physics would permit.
We only needed enough time.
Then a friend pointed out to me that, no no no, such a thing could not happen as the universe would inevitably begin to fall back on itself and crush everything in existence. 1
So if literally EVERYTHING will one day cease to exist, what the f*ck is the point of anything?
Here’s my latest stab.
To enjoy consciousness today, all previous generations had to live and die:
“Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new.”
A lot of people had to die so that we might live.
Some people find inspiration in Jesus dying for mankind.
But I find it even more inspiring that all previous generations gave their lives so that humanity could march on, allowing you and I to enjoy consciousness at this precise moment.
And so that’s how I find meaning in death: dying will be a tiny part of that push forward.
Just a little more evolution, a little more progress, a small shot at giving more humans the chance at consciousness.
I’d known this expanding/contracting universe fact for a long time, but apparently my desire to find purpose and immortality overcame my brain’s ability to combine that fact with the prior desire. This is a life lesson: our bodies and minds are often not incentivized to find truth↩