Life is a human standing on a shoreline looking out at the ocean and screaming into the void. There is no reason— that scream will change nothing—but it makes us feel better.
This thought was prompted by my research into the Nag hammadi scrolls. Its a series of gnostic texts that were found by a 14 year old Egyptian boy in 1945. It wasn't turned over to anyone till 1946, and in that year his mother used some of the text-filled parchment as kindling. Ancient scrolls and scripture, lost to the elements. Life goes on. We are all subjected to the decay of time. Nothing is permanent, and that scream into the vast, indifferent void becomes both an act of defiance and an embrace of vulnerability. The hope that someone might be listening keeps us sane.
Amazingly, despite this knowledge that everything will be lost to time, it doesn't stop us from attempting to save it. Perhaps, paradoxically, this knowledge of impermanence is what drives our desire to preserve things in the first place.
In 2020-2021, I was convinced we were gonna get nuked by Russia and so, in attempt to protect knowledge, I took every copy I had of the Bible, every copy of the Quran, the Bhagavad Gita, Upanishad, Tao Te Ching and tried to save it. Wrapped them in plastic, put it in a bag and hid it in my bedside drawer furthest from the window and shielded by my bed. All to protect it from any nuclear fallout. That hope that maybe something will be the exception to times effect takes over.
And there lays the remnants of pages held to the greatest esteem by billions of people. Left to become ashes.
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