beginning and ending

“The whole point of dying is to be scared; because that means that your life meant something to you.”

The beginning. Do we even have an idea or acceptance about the beginning?

No, we don’t. We don’t even know anything about the beginning, so how can we feel a peaceful acceptance about the ending of it? It is of course harder. Of course.

This piece will be about endings.

I was always scared of death. The very uncertainty about death, because I’ve never liked endings. But ironically, I always, always, constantly find myself thinking about death. The thought that life will be over, I will be over one day, and nothing won’t make any sense for anyone anymore... Nowadays I am trying to understand why I am this angry and sad about it, I’ve used to think like this because I think that it is not fair! It is not fair that we know the fact that we die one day! We are aware of the fact that we are going to die! This is what we do, or what happens to us. Such a burden for a human being, for a creature with a heart. I recently realised I am even more upset about the fact that we hurt each other although we know that we are going to die. Some can say that maybe we hurt each other because we will die. This is exactly what I don’t want to believe in. This is why I am writing this.

My heart says this piece of writing won’t be like other things, because today I realised that time flies… In the past, I was thinking that life is not only about beginnings because every beginning comes with an ending, but still I was fine with recognising those beginnings although they come with their own endings. Somehow, this formulation, this way of explaining things, was not good enough. There was something missing in my heart. My heart was having a hard time believing the story I told. I should have known this long before, of course, it was always about good stories! A good story can bring light to any heart. Good arguments should be covered with blankets made out of stories. Now I need a good story for my own heart and that blanket made out stories are missing. My arguments are weak and cold without that blanket. They don’t know how to reach my heart. I do see that there is no real beginning or ending but I cannot feel it. I am still so sad that I don’t know how to help humans to realise this, and even more than realising, is it possible that we, including myself, can also feel this more than understanding it? Because maybe, maybe, if they do, if we do, we can change the world! We can create better political systems, we can recognise our similarities instead of our differences, so that we can be less cruel and more empathetic. And in this way, we can learn to communicate with our roots and see how our roots are connected to each other under the soil. I want us to realise that our bodies and leaves are occupying separate spaces on the surface yet still having the same roots which maintain their togetherness. Every day we are trying to survive together. Life is a secret word for trying. Trying to make it right. Trying to help each other. Maybe one day we can remember this again. One day, I won’t be able to try, but until that day comes, I wanna do my best, I wanna write that story to myself and to all of us because I know that I need this story, and most importantly we need this story to be written. We need to start using our words for good stories to feel the beauty of our togetherness in our beginnings and endings.