Mock Severity

From our smooth skin to the warm blood that beats throughout our body. From the symmetry of our body to the hemispheres of our brain. We are a system, a collection of parts working together to support our minds. The survival instinct is deeply engrained in us, carved into every molecule of our DNA. Together, our parts work hard to keep each person on this earth alive, quitting only when we do. From the smallest blood cell to the largest ecosystem, all of it is revolving around our existence. All of it bringing you, and me, here. Alive.

Now what?

The first thought that pops into my mind is to consider my options. But I believe that I may have already wandered away from honestly responding to the situation. The idea of considering options is designed to keep our minds focused on what is reasonable and what is rational. But if I am trying to be truthful with myself, I can’t accept that. What rationality? Who’s idea of reasonable? Not mine, or else I wouldn’t have had to narrow my thoughts down to “my options”. And letting other people take control of your actions before you even consider what to do is absurd.

The best course of action must be to take inventory. I’ve got five senses that tell me what is physically out there, what I’m seeing, feeling, smelling, hearing, and tasting. I’ve got a body that can interact with the world I live in. But strangely, this isn’t all I’ve got. I’ve got other senses. Things aren’t just cold or flat, salty or loud. Things are austere and beautiful, funny and sad, attractive and intriguing. Most importantly, some are people – sensing, feeling, thinking people. Others are not.

Given that, this situation really isn’t that hard to respond to. I still don’t know who put me here, or what I was made to do. However, I can see what is around me, I can feel what matters, and I know what my situation is for. What our situation is for, really.

It’s for us to act upon our values. It’s for us to live our life. Absurdly simple, but increasingly undeniable. In fact, we can’t really do anything else. Sure, I can let other people spend my time, and of course, I can live as if other people’s strange obsessions and judgments are what matters, but a deferred judgment isn’t really a judgment at all. A life unauthored by the one who lives it must always be inauthentic, second-rate, and just generally less important than the life lead by its own light.