Earth as a fleck of glitter on black velvet curtains
One of the things I and probably many people struggle with purpose. We should be working not just for money, but toward something. Yes, going to work, making money, love, marriage, etc. are all great. But does it all build toward something? If so, what?
Because we’re living more richly than our ancestors (though maybe not the boomers), what if our dissatisfaction is another kind of luxury that we enjoy? What if we’re dreamers just because we’re spoiled?
Imagine this story of two islands on opposite sides of the earth. They both struggled to just barely feed themselves for centuries. Finally, they’ve catch a break. They have time for leisure.
On the first island, the kids are taught about the struggles of the past. They grow up admiring their ancestors. When they grow up, they too want to do great things, but can’t figure out what. They fall into existential despair. Should they just jump into the shark-infested waters just for the hell of it? Why? That would be foolhardy, not courageous. In the past, people barely survived. They had reason to go into dark waters. They felt that the darkest waters to explore were their own minds.
On the second island, they also admired the courage of their ancestors. When they grew up, they also realized the futility of jumping into shark-infested waters. Since they had better canoes than their ancestors, they decided to push them deeper into the sea. They explored further underwater. They found ways to climb higher. They were never satisfied with what they had. It was never enough.
Fast-forward a few more centuries. You’re on the first island and you see a ship on the horizon. Your heart stops. It doesn’t matter how nice you are to these strange people. Your culture is dead. It’s over for you and your island. Even if you survive, you take a subservient role from that point on.
If we focus on just the moment of contact, we miss everything that happened up till then. The people on the first island were dead before they saw the ship on the horizon. You could even say they died hundreds of years ago and weren’t buried until the ship came.
Earth itself is a tiny vessel. We are a bright speck on black velvet curtains. We barely exist. Just like the people of the first island, our future is also at risk. A gentle breeze might flick us off the black curtains. A rock from the sky might wake us up while we’re sleeping. For now, we believe we’re alive. Earth is a womb. In the same way that all our mothers pass away, no matter how kind, or gentle, or loving, this one will too.