My little infinity

Each time I look up to the sky I am reminded of how insignificant my existence is relative to those endless celestial bodies hovering around the ever-expanding universe. Watching those stars move across the stark darkness, I am reminded of the fragility of life–how a slight alteration in the seemingly immutable universal laws could easily wipe everything out, including life as we know it. A sea change. A transformation. A universal metamorphosis.

I am nothing. Nil. Zilch. Nada. Every rising and setting of the sun, every drop of the pouring rain, every being and every gushing of the wind against my face, I am reminded of the triviality of material life. I am reminded that no matter how much money I have, how many awards and recognition I won, nothing is ever enough to move the universe an inch.

Hazel told Augustus once that there are infinite numbers between 0 and 1. There’s .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite collection of others. Of course, there is a bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities.

The world taught us to believe in that: Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. Most of us want more than the size of the infinity we have. We want more numbers than we’re likely to get. But I guess that’s just not how my heart works. I am happy with the little infinity that I have. I want to be lying in my death bed thankful of my little infinity with everyone and everything that I care about. That’s all. That’s it. That’s how I want to live my life before the universe transforms me, I guess.


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