Life, and Death, are what you make them.

To preface, I wrote this while drunk and low on sleep, so take it for what it is: a drunken ramble by a sleepless mind.

Have you ever stared at your feet as you walked down a straight street and pictured that instead of you walking along the Earth that the Earth was rotating beneath your feet and that you are, in fact, not moving at all? A stationary circus performer atop the largest balance ball imaginable.

The Earth moves. As does Time. Our lives move along with them, but in contrast to their cosmic consistency, our lives and the forces exerted therein are merely grains of sand stubbornly sticking to the side of an hourglass; refusing to smoothly follow the progress of the tide of sand. We are insignificant to the cycle of existence and no amount of political influence or wealth can change the fact that the Earth and Time just do not care. They don’t even notice.

Our gravest crises do not even merit an annoyed swat. If the individual and all the individual’s efforts are so unspectacular, then what is the point of living? What is the point of an existence that does not affect? For what purpose do we arise out of bed, aside from the instinct to live long enough to sleep again?

Knowledge. Experience.

Living.

The secret of living is not to attain some approval from some great cosmic creator for admittance into some other rumored superior form of existence. No. If that were true, then Death as we view it would not exist and live would truly have no purpose. The secret purpose of Life is merely to live. We exist solely to experience things for ourselves and grow to appreciate the beauty of those instances as the miracles they are. As I age, as you age, as we all age we experience things that no other person has or ever will experience. Even if they were there when the action or event happened, they still do not share your exact experience because they are not you; they do not have your insight and your exact appreciation and interpretation of what happens and has happened.

We are all great tomes of knowledge and each day is a new page. Is minute is a new page. Each second, each blink of an eye, is a new page. As far as Time is concerned, there is no length minimum or maximum for a page in the book of Life. Time only exists when laid alongside life; Time has no measure for the living. Time is relative because Life is relative to the one living it. A year to me is not the same as a year to you and the reason is as simple as the fact that I am not you. We both view Time differently and because we perceive Time differently, Time actuality is different for each of us. My minute is not your minute. While the clock between may beg to differ, it does not know my appreciation of a minute versus yours. Time exists only in the manner in which we perceive it. Time does not exist for a rock or a leaf or a field mouse. They do not perceive Time; the previous and impending are not concepts they can fathom and as such past and future do not exist for them. Most creatures only perceive the now and time as we conceive it literally does not affect them.

Time is a creation of sentience.

Existence is a creation of sentience.

The only creature who can know the concept of Existence is one that can conceptualize the assumed reality of its own Existence. To any other creature, they merely are; being ‘not’ isn’t even an option to them because they cannot perceive the idea. That previously mentioned field mouse? It doesn’t know what Death is. It does not know that force which it fears. It only knows fear of something unknown; something beyond it.

We are still field mice as far as the universe is concerned. We fear Death because we do not know what it is; and because we do not know what Death is and admit that we fear it because so, we are the laughing stock of the universe.

What worries me isn’t the unknown aspect of Death. Honestly, it’s the unknown aspect of Death that draws me toward it. It ignites my curiosity. Just what is on the other side? I am at times obsessed with the thought. Were there some way I could ensure my safe return, I would zealously plunge into Death if only to find out just what Death actually entails. I would love to experience Death if only I were able to retain the knowledge of that experience. But I don’t have any assurance of being able to keep that knowledge and as such, I am compelled to keep Death at bay until I feel I’ve experienced enough of Living that I’ll be satisfied with the possibility of experiencing no more.

It’s not the unknown of Death that scares me; it’s the possibility of losing the knowledge I have gained, that I have earned by warding off Death long enough to wake up again and again. I do not want to lose love. I do not want to lose happiness. I do not want to even lose sadness, because it is the bitterness of sadness that makes happiness so sweet. When we die, what happens to all that knowledge? All those unique perceptions of personal existence…do they merely disappear? Do they go to waste?

Is that what a soul is? The stockpile of experience we gain through living? Is a soul merely a hope chest stuffed to the brim with memories? Is the reason that humanity created the concept of a soul because of our fear of our memories going to waste? Because if our memories will do naught but cease to be when our bodies do, what’s the point?

The point is to ignore the point. The point is to just live and let your memories take care of themselves. We cannot change the inevitable nature of Death and we must all find out the truth behind Death, whether we want to or not. If we fear the end of Time, then it is our own fault when that end draws near far too quickly for our tastes. We created Time and as such we control Time. Time exists only as the individual perceives it. The fact that we’ve all agreed to a standardization of Time is merely a testament to our insistence to conform. If man had not invented ways to try and measure Time, then Time would not exist. Time is a measurement of Existence. And if Time is merely a perception of Existence and Time only exists as we perceive it, then we exist only as we perceive we do.

“I think, therefore I am.”

As such, one can change their existence merely by altering their perception of their existence. If I can make a minute feel longer than the stopwatch insists it is, then why can’t I perceive my Existence to be far more significant than the Universe insists it is? Who ever set the Universe’s perception of Existence as the norm by which all shall be compared? And if our Existences are not affected by the perceived Existence of the Universe, then who can prove the Existence of the Universe at all? The only reason we think the Universe exists is because we need a context within which to place our own Existences.

Want context? Fine.

The Existence of the individual is dictated by the individual’s perception of that Existence.

Without the perception of Existence, there can be no Existence.

If the individual only exists because they agree to perceive that Existence as so, then they, in perceiving, and thus creating, their own Existence is their own Universe.

If Life is merely a collection of experiences and experience is a by-product of perceived Existence, then Life exists only because the individual perceives it to exist.

If Life is perceived, and thus created, by the Existence of the individual’s own perception of Existence, then each individual is responsible for creating Life as they perceive it.

If Life is created by the individual, and the individual perceives themselves as Living, then the individual is their own creator.

We are all our own God.

Furthermore, if Life exists only as a perception of the individual, then Death, being the assumed inverse of Life, only exists because the individual chooses to perceive Life as existing. Therefore, like the field mouse, if the individual does not perceive Life as an existing concept, then inversely they do not perceive Death as an existing concept. If the individual does not perceive Death as a concept of Existence, then, to that individual, Death does not. If Death does not exist, then one cannot die.
Now my question is…I’ve been taught to perceive Life and thus to perceive Death. Furthermore, I’ve been led to perceive Death as some sort of end. But is it?

Is it really? Because if Life and Death are only perceptions of the individual, then isn’t it up to the individual what happens when Life becomes Death? An agreed upon concept as proof is not a proof of concept. If so, then is the secret to Immortality as simple as merely negating one’s perception of Life and Death as existing?

Have humans become too smart to live forever?

Furthermore, are we too dumb to alter our own perceptions in order to alter our own existences?

Do we die merely as an after-effect of being in the evolutionary middle years?

If an individual can learn to successfully ignore the concept of Death and eventually forget that they ever perceived the existence of Death…can they die?

I’m sure I lack the capabilities to alter my perceptions enough to answer this query personally…but still the query remains: is the meaning of Life to merely learn to ignore the fact that one is alive and to instead exist without any personal perception of Existence in order to negate the perception of Life and as a result negate the concept of Death, thus negating the Reality of Life and Death at the same time?
Alongside that question, another question arises: Are any of us capable of this feat?