As I was driving down the freeway in Los Angeles today I looked around at all the junk. The stuff. The human brick-a-brack crowding the city. I thought about all the trash filling the ocean. An article from Time magazine popped into my head “The Living Plant Report measured more than 10,000 representative populations of mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibians and fish and found a 52% decline between 1970 and 2010. The facts are grimmer for some species: freshwater dwellers showed an average decline of 76%.” Yep. We are killing the planet.
Then my brain whispered “How does it feel to know that YOU are the parasite?” It was kind of like in the 6th sense when Bruce Willis realizes he is a ghost. We are the parasite. Not Ebola. Not SARAS. Not cancer. Not global warming. We are the thing killing everything. And, to be honest, it doesn’t matter. Yes, it is in the nature of any living creature to multiply and live on. But in the grand scheme of the universe and the eternity of time, humans and Earth are so minuscule. We mean nothing. We are just another set of vibrations doing our thing on some glob of matter in the middle of nowhere.
And I’m ok with that.
If nothing means anything, it takes all the pressure off. When everything is meaningless and someday we will off the planet anyways then we can do anything now and it’s perfect. So while I’m here in this body, this stuck together blob of tissue and bone, being this vibration for some limited number of days I think what I’d like to do, the impact I’d like to make is simply this. When I die I want people to say “She explored the world and she left a trail of smiles behind her. The light from inside her warmed everyone she touched. She was love.”