Some Inspiration

You are an infinitesimally small and insignificant fleck of dust. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you will never make an impact on the Universe.

When the Universe comes to an end, when time itself ceases to be, no one will cry your name. Nothing will look to you for inspiration.

When you die, the only things that will mourn you are more flecks of dust. Flecks of dust that you might have helped form into the flecks of dust that they are.

It's time to come to grips with something, and that is that this slice of time and space was not made with you in mind. Had two small, insignificant pieces of matter not been particularly fond of each other and you hadn't come into existence, the Universe would never have known the difference.

Deal with it. It's a harsh truth, but, as a great man once said, knowledge is preferred to ignorance.

While we're at it, this microscopically small piece of cosmic real estate called the Milky Way does not exist so that our spherical collection of rock and water can lazily float around a ball of gas.

It exists for only one reason, and that is, rather redundantly, just because it does.

There is no hidden meaning, there is no purpose or pattern. There just is.

Now with that in mind, you trifling piece of carbon, look up from whatever screen you're reading this on and contemplate how trivial your existence is.

Now back to me.

There is one phrase that wholly defines the "carpe diem" philosophy to life. Whenever Carl Sagan spoke about our pale blue piece of dust suspended in a beam of light, albeit with a more impressive education than I can claim ownership of to back him up, he got a bit long winded.

When I said "one phrase" I exaggerated slightly. It's really just two words.

As much as it pains me to disagree with the great Douglas Adams, the answer to life, the Universe, and everything is not "42".

Then what is, you ask?

"Fuck it."

When you do something less than flattering in front of a group of people and start feeling embarrassed - Fuck it. Your faux pas has not shifted mountains nor split atoms. When you finally straighten your irrelevant ass up, you'll be living in the same Universe as you were before you make a complete dunce out of yourself. The only difference will be that a pointless and unsubstantial collection of flecks might have a poor opinion of you.

Luckily, the Universe doesn't run on the opinions of those of us who don't have a sense of humor so, you guessed it, fuck it and fuck them too.

What I'm trying to get at is that life, otherwise known as the period of time that we are warm flecks of dust as opposed to the rotting, cold ones that we will inevitably become, is not given to us so that we can carefully tip-toe within pre-determined lines and preserve our fleshy tokens of existence so that they will stay warm for longer and look good when they're buried in the ground.

It was given to us, by nothing more than the sheer randomness of the Universe, so that we could trip and fall into the mud, pick ourselves back up, maybe go careening off into a metal barrier or two, and come away with a smile on our faces saying "I'd do that again if I had the chance".

Except we don't, and hopefully never will, have that chance.

We have one life. It is short and it is, from time to time, a bit turbulent along the way, but what I believe some people have trouble grasping is that you really only do have one chance at it. Even if you believe that someday the sky is going to open up and you'll sit by some really bright dude's side for eternity, you will only have one chance at THIS life.

You have one, brief window to be young and in love. You have one first kiss, one first precious minutes with a newborn baby, one family, one 20th birthday, one first speeding ticket, one first home-cooked meal, one first bad experience with sushi, one first vulgar slip of the tongue in front of an audience, one first incredible first date, one first broken bone, one first case of stomach flu, and one first crying session at the end of a sad movie.

So the next time you're debating whether or not you should do something, remember that it might be your only chance to do it. So, in those situations, say what Carl Sagan (essentially) once said.

"Fuck it, might as well."

Now that you know just how minor and minute you are, go out and enjoy your damn self.

And always remember not to take yourself too seriously. You are, after all, nothing more than a paltry mass of dust.