Do you feel emboldened or decimated at the realization of the temporality of life?
I find that I bounce between the two. I have never been one for in-betweens; I am an extremist. Some mornings, I wake up and feel thrilled and enlivened by the consciousness of the brevity of my life. I feel energized by the preciousness of the moment and excited by the realization that this one, brief flash, this ecstatic burst in the universe that is the timeline of humanity, will end. The shortness and delicacy of life makes it all the more precious. One wild and precious life.
Other times, I am so completely and utterly cast down by it. I feel the heavy clock of time weighing on me, its ominous tick-tock-tick-tock shaking my every fiber. I feel a panic, the threat of Poe-like madness. Breath shortens, enhancing the shortness of my time. The brevity. Oh, so brief...a murmur, whisper, undertone of something that prances around with self-assigned significance. This slight exhalation of some colossal Bahamut, real or imagined.
What are we?
How is it possible to feel simultaneously so mighty and so miniscule?
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