Understand this point, and understand it well: Dead men have nothing to lose. Marcus Brutus had nothing to lose. George Custer had nothing to lose. Jack Ruby had nothing to lose. Charles Manson had nothing to lose. Ted Bundy had nothing to lose. Jesus Christ had nothing to lose. King Leonidas had nothing to lose. Yet we are all dead in the sense that each of us is a mortal being—we have a strictly limited shelf life which is breathtakingly fleeting from a cosmological perspective. No one lives much past one hundred years, and most earthlings succumb decades, if not scores of years, before reaching that three digit benchmark. The point I alluded to at the outset then? Death does not have to be jarringly imminent—witness the earlier stated examples—for you to treat it as such and thereupon begin to live recklessly and uninhibited as though you have but a few days left on Earth’s verdurous surface. Well, that is essentially true, because against the backdrop of the interstellar clock your remaining time as a sentient organism on planet Earth can and should be measured in surprisingly teensy multiples of hours, days, months, and years. You are here and—Poof!!!—in the next instant you are gone akin to the Phantom of the Opera. When compared to the universal constant, your stint as a flesh-and-blood constituent of the cosmos cast among the throngs of surrounding inorganic stars and galactic debris lasts no longer than the proverbial blink of an eye. Than the snap of one’s fingers. Than the ectopic skip of one’s heart. Than a violent sneeze. Than the time it takes you to tumble off a cliff. Humbling, I know, but uncompromisingly true. So you may as well get over it now and relish this ephemeral condition we humans call life. It’ll be over before you know it, and even sooner for those people born with a brain but with no electricity coursing through their metaphysical organ. Live life, don’t think about it!!!!!
Fred's Soapbox 