Dust In the Wind


We hold such inflated and subjective views on the value of human life. In the mere seconds that these first words have been written, multitudes of people have died and been born. In spite of this, we soldier on, invincible, until death affects our lives directly. This spawns our thoughts of purpose and raison d’etre – of some consequence of being greater than the material world. No matter our religious faith – a direct result of this manner of thinking – we are oblivious to the death all around us, whether it is animals being slaughtered for food or a mouse with its tiny neck snapped inside of a trap’s jaws; keeping record only of those of our own kind killed. News reports the deaths of humans elsewhere as a statistic, up close as an in-depth story on the local news station with a name and bit of how one group of individuals may have been impacted by the event. It’s not until death touches our lives directly or threatens to be imminent that we truly begin to look at the big picture and find value in what’s to become.

Are we really of any consequence in this world? I am speaking of the larger picture. Certainly, while alive, we affect others and experience our own sensationalised perception of life. Long after our lives have ended, our works may continue to live on, making one possibly argue that our life does have meaning. This is true, so long as other life continues. If an asteroid were to impact our tiny blue planet, killing everything upon it, our legacy would no longer offer its fruits. As I believe religion to have been contrived to create order and control us with the necessary laws to exist as societies, there is, in my mind, nothing beyond the ashes we will all one day become. Likewise, though things will be different with each of our passing, things will still carry on. For example, in spite of the genocides carried out throughout history, we still live our day to day lives, hopefully wiser to those who might run rampant with usurped power and fear mongering.

I believe we delude ourselves with importance. Life ends and that’s natures way of showing that we are expendable; each of us turning to dust in our graves being no different that the leaves of each Autumn composing in the earth. We too carry on in the ecosystem –this is our only true afterlife, just as all things rot and thus make food for new things to grow. Sadly, religions, save the Wicca’s and other Pagans, have taken us away from this, placing us on top of and outside the food chain as the earth’s keeper, created in the image of a god. Surely any species capable of conceiving the abstract notion of G(g)od would paint themselves as being the closest living thing to that particular deities form (okay, the Hindus have a spin on this idea). I think, for many, to feel that our life really has little meaning would be traumatic, possibly even being drawn to suicide. For me, it is a relief. It is a relief to accept that I am simply an organic part of the big picture whose existence may experience the beauty and wonder that is our world and be comforted that an end to my life will, as memories die, become a form of nothingness and thus have sought a paradise free of pain and suffering. Sounds a bit like a Christian’s view of Heaven. Likewise, I will not feel the necessity to cling to my last breath if terminally ill. Life is about pleasurable stimulus, enriching who you are and contribution positively to the harmony of those around you. One does not wish to live in suffering, and therefore should not perpetuate such suffering on others. Material possessions mean nothing – our brief time should be one of passions pursued, music, art, literature, family, friends and seeking peace and enjoyment through the natural world by doing our darnedest to integrate with it. Fight injustice and for the environment, but accept that we are all to be dust one day, thus ending all well. In doing so, we will all find inner peace.