Our relation to Eternity
I’d just like to hang out for a few millennia longer. Imagine what one could accomplish in that timeframe. I could be a master of all arts and sciences if i tried, had the ability and motivation.
Imagine having geniuses such as Einstein living for a few hundred years or the Newtons or Da Vincies. By the same token you could also have despots granted the same privilege…would we be better off ? Who knows.
To me the fact that the universe confers a being with self-aware existence then strips it away seems kinda cruel. Why give me a taste of eternity but do not grant me the full privilege? What’s that all about ?
I have nothing against anyone wishing to leave a mark on human history (for the better I hope) or even a legacy …but even that in the span of eternal time seems but a flicker.
I occasionally ponder such questions. Gives me a different prospective from the everyday humdrum.
If the universe endows its beings with the ability to comprehend the concept of eternal life do you think that perhaps it may even be a real thing to a being say such as God (if they do exist). But then again I’m not a God so…the big question is of course why grant a being such a perspective…could it be a prelude to an actuality ? Or do we simply return to dust never to be heard of again. Sounds a little bit … how can I put this mildly …pointless?
Other life forms who lack our apprehension to dwell on this issue are simply natural phenomena which makes our life worth living …sometimes in the form of a consolation from a pet etc. among life’s other amazing wonders.
Yet this glimpse of eternity prompts me to the idea that there might be an eternal existence perhaps in the form of God for which we completely lack the perspective or the perception to see things from that angle.
Nice quote. I have a very similar perspective on this whole thing …
But then I’m prompted by this quote…
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing