Just had a queer old bit of memory fall into my lap. Some time before adolescence. Just before it. Autumn season, my dad in the kitchen. Or grabbing wood outside. A particular smell that I can’t name, or recall. Like a mix of irish stew and wet leaves. It was world that felt so incredibly sturdy and dependable. What a pleasant time to be alive, that was.
Now that we are obviously an empire in decline, I’m not sure I want kids- though I suppose even if it is a decline, the human race must go on. Must try try try again. I think people lose sight of the big picture- the meaning of life, as it were.
We exist, all of us, for a simple purpose- to participate in the evolution of the species. If that means dying off and ending a failed lineage, that’s still an important part of the process. That’s most of the process in fact. You can also serve by competing with other human iterations for the sake of stressing them into further growth and specal maturation. Stress is an effective catalyst for evoltion…so long as it doesn’t cause extinction instead.
It’s hard to grapple with what mortality implies, so we don’t- opting instead for necessary fantasies of immortality– and we shape our virtue and purpose around that illusion. You’re not doing the species any good by being kind to it or soft to it. You’re not doing it any good by being generous towards it, or enabling it.
The planet is a locked room with a time bomb in it. Evolution is the only shot we have at forging a key to escape, and ultimately survive for real- not just in our dreams.