The living feed on the dead. It is the way of the world.
I cannot extricate myself from the vast web of interconnectedness all things share. As alone as I want to be, I have the company of billions of parasites and bacterium on me and inside me at all times. I am spinning with the earth in the deep void of space, bathed in the light and warmth that is thrown off from the thermonuclear core of our Sun, inhaling the oxygen given off by the photosynthesis of all the plants that fill each nook and corner of the planet we have not scraped clear of them, eating the bodies of dead animals and plants to nourish the heat factory at my core. The atoms in my body don’t see any division at all between inside me and outside me. Infinitely vast on the scale of atoms, I am vanishingly small on a planetary scale and invisible on any scale greater than that. On the scale of time my life and all it contains is but a breath, the falling of a wave on the shore, instantly erased by the next wave in a never-ending process.
It seems silly to persist in the notion of a self at all, yet I do.
I remain stubbornly convinced of it.
The whole endeavor captivates me.
“No matter how far you have gone down the wrong path, turn back”