January 9, 2021•312 words
There is this story about hydra, the animal.
It seems to never die of natural causes. Cut it in half, you get two hydra. Cut it in four? Four hydra. It has a stunningly large amount of stem cells that are constantly re-building its body. We kind of suspect that, like all things, hydras do eventually die. But, since we haven't witnessed it thus far, we can consider it immortal.
Human life, one can say, is all about addition. We're born naked, with no identity, no knowledge, no power. All we have at that point is the ability to learn, to gather, to grow. We add on new things onto our fragile self. With every day passing by, we're becoming more of a person. Richer in experience, knowledge, respect. Richer in existence.
But all this massive growth leaves a trail.
A trail of memories, experiences, people, places. Just like our body is loosing cells as we get older, we're leaving behind pieces of ourselves. Every movement has an impact. Every action is recorded in the Universe's transient blockchain.
We may all be gone in a hundred years. But, the trail we've left behind will still be there. Even if only remembered by the trees from our backyard. Those tiny specks, once part of our integrated being, will populate the Earth for others to pick up.
In a sense, we're all immortal.
All we can control is which specks to leave behind. Or, rather, how to leave them behind. Some people take photos, others write songs.
Some people write.
As I go along the path of life, pieces of my existence are being left behind. Even if no one will ever pick them up again, I'm glad to know they're just there.
Solidifying my fragile and wicked immortality.
Go on; take the next step. Just for the sake of leaving something behind.