Living

Life is so short and so fleeting. Yesterday I was born and tomorrow if not today, I will die. It would just be a matter of time. Yet in such a very limited lease of existence, a lot of things can happen. It could range from the realization of the smallest piece of my dreams, to the complexities of what I never expected. At some points, I am forced to ask myself two questions that keep on haunting me:

Why did I have to be born? And why do I have to be subjected to death?

These questions are obviously universal. In fact, they spell out the unending search for the real meaning of life. But who can really know, is another question. Many have attempted to give answers. But unfortunately, most of them if not all, failed in vain. Up to this moment, nobody can decipher the mystery underlying life. It remains so vague; so ambiguous that it continues to be far incomprehensible. It remains a piece of this life’s many mysteries, or other versions of uncertainty. Fate unfortunately constantly refuses to reveal everything it holds for each individual. In truth, to be born is to fall into the ocean of uncertainties, and to live, is to struggle with its soaring tides for survival. In some instances man is given the chance to immerse himself into it as far as he can and maybe to play with its waves up to certain limits. But measuring its exact depth is hitherto impossible.

Life is a journey towards an unknown destiny which man alone can choose, but must fight for it. I may aim at a certain goal for example, with some sound sight and precision yet this can never be a guarantee. The outcome will still rest upon two possibilities; I may attain it or I may miss it. The certainty of any of them, I can never know. Determinism and volunteerism are at play, and relying on one only, is impracticable.

Living then is a skirmish with one’s self. It is even a competition with whatever fate has in store for an individual. In all these struggles, the competitor can only rely on himself and on the Supreme Being that holds the course of the Universe. Reliance on other people is least advisable. Doing so sometimes aggravates frustration especially when human nature on the part of those whom individuals bet their trust fails them. It is maybe hard for people to accept, but there are times when there is nobody more trustworthy nor reliable than the self alone. For the man who suffers pain is most likely the best person to know the things that can give him relief.

Everything seems to be just a gamble – a risk. And no one is free from this entanglement for the only way out is the consolation of death. Nonetheless, I believe that there is more in life than despair albeit, there are so many anxieties that man faces here on earth. Life is not a matter of how luxurious does a man live or how far he has attained success. But rather, it is a matter of how does a person live his life regardless of its length and how does one struggles with courage amidst the failures he unavoidably meets along his way Perhaps the most important question will be, how meaningful does he live his short life?

To live is not to passively exist; it is to strive for a meaningful existence.