Resurrected

It’s funny how, from time to time, you can snip off a huge chunk of your life that’s been trailing behind you towards the past end for some time, and let it drift away, so you can be a little more weightless while walking forward. Like an iceberg breaking off from time to time. You can watch the pieces that have floated away, but never actually get them back. Not funny. It’s not funny at all. It’s actually a little sad, I think.

I, for example, have packed my latest detached piece of life partly inside an orange and white packet in my cupboard and partly inside a folder in my computer. Something makes me open the cupboard and stare at the packet sometimes, switching momentarily to being a second person, looking at myself and wondering what I’m thinking about, whether I’m thinking the things that people in these situations are supposed to thing. What do they think? Are there socially approved lines along which such people are supposed to think?
Something made me open the folder today. A lot of chat logs. It was surprising that I’d been able to bury so much amount of my past. Saw a few photos. Fear. It’s funny how you once endow such things with destiny and providence and other stuff like the ones Paulo Coelho always shouts about. And then you see it’s no longer so.

I guess when you are trapped in a circular, spiraling maze like this all the time, the only way out is to sometimes think it’s funny. The conservation of mass and energy is a cruel hint of the circular, pointless nature of everything. Why don’t the scientists get it? Why are they so dumb?

Look, hey, let me tell you something. I’m a weird being. I don’t miss my past as much as I ought to, and I worry about that. And I’m always guilty that I’ve let myself forget my childhood, my old friends. For the little time we’re here, I guess we all try to embrace life as hard as we can. It’s because we don’t know where we were before we first opened our eyes, or where we will be after we last close them. That’s not a good enough excuse to suppose that the things in those two intervals were (a) same and (b) unpleasant and frightening. Look at an amoeba. The thing’s got nothing called fear. Fear is a learned response due to the constraints of being a human. So it’s logical to suppose that when you die and aren’t a human any more, you won’t have any need of your instincts, including fear. Hence, it’s not reasonable to be afraid of what lies beyond.

Talk about a hypocrite.

1Life.

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