when i walk alone i think of hamlet's famous soliloquy about mortality.
and today i thought of it again.
to be or not to be that is the question. whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer... or to take arms against a sea of troubles. to die, to sleep, and by a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to. who would fardles bear to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of?
and i wonder too. you have found your resolution, i havent yet. i dont know.
i do what i do for the love of the game? egoistic altruism? noble sacrifice? sf fomo? anguish? fear? trauma? stability? freedom?
what is this game, if there is any? to dr.t, it's a game to extend the branches of a tree lasted more than hundreds of thousands of years ago. but if every matter has a half life, why try?
the only reason why we would try is if we can build dyson spheres, we can manipulate dark matter, dark energy. we are closer to the observable universe than to the plancks. we are closer to know the biggest truth, much more than the smaller one (by a fairly large degree). we need to understand the cosmos. and to understand the cosmos we need to live. and living is the foundation of the humanity's attempt at manipulating entropy.