mry writes

*a brainfart*

We are all on the road.

You, me, the woman walking over there, the man in the rear seat on the bus, everyone you see, everyone you do not see. All are on the road.

His road, her path, each and every journey of each and every person is different. All beginnings and all endings are the same, despite differences in place and time. Birth, death, with some measure of life between.

All roads lead to death: this scares us; this matters not. What matters is how we live while on our road. Are we kind? Are we considerate? Are we helpful? Do we care for others? Do we smooth the road whenever and wherever we can? Do we help others navigate the holes and ruts? Do we live as though others matter? These things matter. They matter more than acquiring; more than winning.

There is no winning in the end; there is only the end.

Beat-beat-beat. We live as long as our hearts beat. We measure our lives based on the beating of the muscle in our chests; we ascribe emotions and sensations to our heart, beyond the mechanical pumping which is its essential purpose: Heartbeat, heartfelt, heart full, heartless; take heart; have a heart. We offer our hearts as a token of love, of caring.

Our heart is the beat of life; the gain and loss of living and loving; beginning and ending of existence, of experience. Of life.

The quality and the quantity of life, the passage of time and the events occurring between birth and death, are unique; the result is not. Death scares people but resistance is futile.

Do we give up? No. We learn to live, love, laugh, cry. We gain personhood, we lose personhood. We persevere.

We hope to be remembered. We should hope we leave good reasons to be remembered.