When you’re young you think you’re going to live forever. It’s not so much that you think you’re immortal. But death seems so far away you don’t even think of it.
But as you get older, death becomes a more pressing matter. Not in a morbid way. But because you’ve seen so many people that you’ve known over the years die. And that sooner or later (probably sooner) you know you’re next, motherfucker.
And it puts your life in this perspective. You realize what a fleeting thing it is that you’re alive here in the moment. Followed by an Eternity after you’re dead, where Existence will continue to go on without you.
Just as Existence was manifesting endlessly (apparently) before you blinked into existence.
A somewhat flukeful combination of father’s sperm and mother’s egg. And there you are. You didn’t ask for it. But there you are. Dealing with all of THIS. For the next 70 years or so, on average.
And then you know you’ll croak after that. So you can’t help wondering every now and then, in the back of your mind, in between eating and sleeping and farting and experiencing all this stuff (just trying to survive) what the hell the point of all this was. That you’ve been subjected to all this stuff. Not that we’re great philosophers piercing into the Meaning of Life. But you can’t help wondering in the back of your mind what this Thing (existence) was all about.
And what (if anything) comes next. After this fleeting experience (our lives) is over.
I once wrote a song where I imagined what I’d be thinking at the moment when I was about to die. And the lyrics went like this:
“When I die
When I die
I’ll raise my head
Up to the sky
And as my soul
It slips away
I’ll close my eyes
And this I’ll say.
This life it sure was something”