Some days, when I walk, I think.
Consider for a moment the resiliency of life.
Look around you; note the trees, the insects, the lichen, the weeds, the bushes, the rodents and birds. Try to imagine a “lifeless” place, the arctic, a desert, and contemplate the life even there, beneath the ice, in the sand just waiting patiently for a chance to emerge. What of the extremophiles in the deep ocean, in caves or in volcanic vents.
Short of a planetary collision, I can’t imagine an event that would “wipe out life” on this planet. We can damage it, we can wipe out whole species, but we couldn’t defeat life if we tried. Something would survive and the rules would still apply. The web of life would adjust and new equilibriums would be reached.
Life, as we understand it, exists anywhere there is water and a source of energy. It’s ubiquitous. Observe how quickly life takes back the places where men have tried to tame it when those places become uninhabited. If you abandoned your home tomorrow in ten or twenty years you couldn’t tell it had been there without close examination. In fifty years you’d need to conduct an archeological dig to find the remnants.
Now consider the fragility of life’s vessels.
Individuals are not nearly so resilient.
That spark of life force that we receive from each parent can expire at any moment. The insect can be crushed; the tree can fall in a heavy gust.
Yet Life goes on.
I suppose this is where philosophy begins. We are born and exist as part of a larger web of life. It seems to me that it’s very possible, perhaps even logical that upon our death our life force does not flick out of existence, but returns to the greater whole. We borrow a bit of life, we use it for a while, and then we return it. That life’s journey serves a purpose I suppose. We’ll all find out in time.
I’ve always been curious about such things, more so now than ever. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about this type of thing. It’s no secret why. I don’t know if it matters to anyone else but to me it does.