All Lives Have a Story to Tell

Sondern. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk. ---The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

Lives are a strange thing.

In the entire history of mankind there have been so many names, so many lives that have simply drifted out of existence. The pure number of human lives that have been lead is an incomprehensible one. Our minds cannot even fathom it. Trillions of lives have simply faded away. Some lives are short, some are long, some seem more important and worthwhile, and some seemingly have no purpose. Some lives are given more value in our society because of gender, sexuality, skin color and religious views. We all have the big question of "What is the meaning of life?" We all wonder why, for a split second, we are on this earth and for many, that question is never answered.

Those who hold some spiritual belief find purpose but even that is questioned. People whose names have traveled down the long line of history are now only credited their name and maybe something they’ve accomplished. No one is known generations later for who they truly were. Their thoughts, ideas, hopes, dreams and fears disappear. We’re left with George Washington; First President of America, or Mother Theresa; Saint and lover of the poor. It is even very rare that we acknowledge someone so many years later for simply….loving. Anything more we do know of these people is second or third-hand knowledge from someone who knew them, but still their true self is never known. It is both heartbreaking and beautiful that a life can have so much significance to a generation or a country and in any matter of generations will never be thought of again.

It becomes such a common thing to be so involved in your own life that I don’t think we even hurt over the loss of distance lives anymore. For example, we know that war kills thousands, if not millions of people. When you are distanced from it however, it doesn’t affect you. It affects those who have sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters and lovers that are being killed. It affects you when bombs are dropping in your home town and everyone’s in hiding. Or you might feel a slight twinge of sadness when we hear that a church a few states away lost nine people when someone opened fire. It may even get a bit personal depending on the circumstances. But for those people who are in the midst of these crises it consumes everything. If you’re more removed from it, say in another country, you don’t even hear about it, if you do, you shrug, think "oh that’s just so sad" and move on, focusing on what’s important to you.

It is selfish, inherently. It really doesn’t seem like it can be helped though, or even really should be. This is how human history has played out. One’s opinions and beliefs to them, are absolutely true. They will go to war over this, they will hurt people for these truths. But then? They will pass away, and those things beliefs with them. Their opinions no longer matter, their hatred, their loves. The second they pass on, so does all of that.

Lives are made of many lifetimes, this is deeply intriguing. In different times of one’s life, loves, hates, fears, and goals all change and mold. When you’re ten and your goal is to be an astronaut but you’re afraid of heights this seems like an insurmountable problem. Luckily, you turn 12 and you get over your fear of heights so now you can be an astronaut, but you are terrified of girls. Then 13, and 16, and 20, and 25 come and you’re still not afraid of heights or women, but now you want to be a banker and you hate those damn liberals. How did you get there? How did that small passage of time change so much? You become 40 with a family, a mortgage, a boring job and that hatred of liberals has turned into a dislike of the lower class, you value structure and working hard.

By the time your life has reached out towards its end, say 80, you’ve seen wars come and go, you’ve seen society change all around you, so many events and met so many people. You’ve fostered a generation, two or three after you, seen and heard so many things. You now find that reading the newspaper while having some tea with your wife the important thing in life, you no longer fear or hate people, in fact you’re rather content. But here’s the thing, you will still pass away and I’m sorry but only your grandkids and possibly great-grandchildren will ever remember your name or that grandpa once hated liberals but gave great Christmas presents.

One human can be so complex, and yet?

Nothing..It is both beautiful and awful.