Immortality always sounded like a curse to me. But especially now, having passed the halfway point of the average wealthy male life expectancy. Another scoop of life as big as the one I've already been served seems more than enough, thank you very much.
Does that strike you as morbid?
It's funny, people seem to have no problem understanding satiation when it comes to the individual parts of life. Enough delicious cake, no more rides on the rollercoaster, the end of a great party. But not life itself.
Why?
The eventual end strikes me as beautiful relief. Framing the idea that you can see enough, do enough, be enough. And have enjoyed the bulk of it, without wanting it to go on forever.
Have you seen Highlander? It got panned on its initial release in the 80s. Even Sean Connery couldn't save it with the critics at the time. But I love it. It's one of my all-time favorite movies. It's got a silly story about a worldwide tournament of immortal Highlanders who live forever, lest they get their heads chopped off, and then the last man standing wins... more life?
Yeah, it doesn't actually make a lot of sense. But it nails the sadness of forever. The loneliness, the repetition, the inevitable cynicism with humanity. Who wants to live forever, indeed.
It's the same theme in Björk's wonderfully melancholic song I've Seen It All. It's a great big world, but eventually every unseen element will appear as but a variation on an existing theme. Even surprise itself will succumb to familiarity.
Even before the last day, you can look forward to finality, too. I love racing, but I'm also drawn to the day when the reflexes finally start to fade, and I'll hang up the helmet. One day I will write the last line of Ruby code, too. Sell the last subscription. Write the last tweet. How merciful.
It gets harder with people you love, of course. Harder to imagine the last day with them. But I didn't know my great-great-grandfather, and can easily picture him passing with the satisfaction of seeing his lineage carry on without him.
One way to think of this is to hold life with a loose grip. Like a pair of drumsticks. I don't play, but I'm told that the music flows better when you avoid strangling them in a death grip. And then you enjoy keeping the beat until the song ends.
Amor fati. Amor mori.
Does that strike you as morbid?
It's funny, people seem to have no problem understanding satiation when it comes to the individual parts of life. Enough delicious cake, no more rides on the rollercoaster, the end of a great party. But not life itself.
Why?
The eventual end strikes me as beautiful relief. Framing the idea that you can see enough, do enough, be enough. And have enjoyed the bulk of it, without wanting it to go on forever.
Have you seen Highlander? It got panned on its initial release in the 80s. Even Sean Connery couldn't save it with the critics at the time. But I love it. It's one of my all-time favorite movies. It's got a silly story about a worldwide tournament of immortal Highlanders who live forever, lest they get their heads chopped off, and then the last man standing wins... more life?
Yeah, it doesn't actually make a lot of sense. But it nails the sadness of forever. The loneliness, the repetition, the inevitable cynicism with humanity. Who wants to live forever, indeed.
It's the same theme in Björk's wonderfully melancholic song I've Seen It All. It's a great big world, but eventually every unseen element will appear as but a variation on an existing theme. Even surprise itself will succumb to familiarity.
Even before the last day, you can look forward to finality, too. I love racing, but I'm also drawn to the day when the reflexes finally start to fade, and I'll hang up the helmet. One day I will write the last line of Ruby code, too. Sell the last subscription. Write the last tweet. How merciful.
It gets harder with people you love, of course. Harder to imagine the last day with them. But I didn't know my great-great-grandfather, and can easily picture him passing with the satisfaction of seeing his lineage carry on without him.
One way to think of this is to hold life with a loose grip. Like a pair of drumsticks. I don't play, but I'm told that the music flows better when you avoid strangling them in a death grip. And then you enjoy keeping the beat until the song ends.
Amor fati. Amor mori.