I am given one out of two options. Two jars of magical peanut butter are in front of me. The label of one jar reads “Immortality” and the other “Mortality”. Easy choice, right? Immortality butter would allow me to live forever. Not one hundred years. Not one thousand years. Not one million years. Forever. I’m talking till the end of time forever. I would be able to see how we, as humans, evolve. How our bodies evolve. How our minds evolve. How our technology evolves. How our planet evolves. How everything evolves. I would be able to experience everything that this conscious reality that we call life has to offer. How amazing does that sound? Incredible, right? I would be a fool not to consume the immortality butter. Why do I even have to think about this?
I pick up the jar of immortality butter and throw it in my basketball hoop bin.
Welcome to your new home immortality butter!
Devil on my shoulder: “WHAT THE FFFFFFFF……?”
I open the jar of mortality butter, my hand imitating a giant ice cream scoop and take a whopping handful. And by whopping handful I mean I measure out a tablespoons worth because this stuff is calorie dense and I have to watch my figure.
I would choose mortality butter because I do not wish to live forever. Not because it might be the right thing to do morally or whatever, but because I just don’t wish to spend my entire life (which would be forever) just existing. If I was immortal I don’t feel I would be living. I would just be existing in time and space. Everything would be less beautiful because I wouldn’t have to fear that this moment might be my last. That is what makes life beautiful. It’s because I am so fragile, that makes life so precious to me. I appreciate my life more when I know it can end in the blink of an eye. So for the time that I have left I will try to live while I can, the best that I can. If I lived forever, if I was immortal, my life would be less precious. Less special. I wouldn’t appreciate the beauty in it because I would be sure that I would experience a similar moment in the span of my immortality. I wouldn’t appreciate the little things that might seem trivial.
Like today, driving home in my furnace of a car, dripping so much sweat I was having a bit of difficulty turning my wheel without my hands slipping. I wind my window down, and lean over to wind down the passenger side window which would allow the most glorious draft of wind to flow through. Beautiful air slapping my face, weaving between the follicles of my hair while being accompanied by some catchy tunes that I will never admit to liking and singing out loud.
MORTALITY RULES!
Now I’m sure if I was immortal I would still feel all those great sensory stimulating things, but I wouldn’t appreciate it as much. Because the mortal me knows that I could be hit by a car and killed on my way home. The mortal me knows that I could be jumped and stabbed on one of my night runs. The mortal me knows that I could trip over badly and hit my head on a rock. The mortal me knows these things. The mortal me knows these risks. But it is these risks, no matter how big or small that make life that much more exciting. Even just typing this blog right now is so great, because this might very well be the last thing that I type because I may have a stroke in my sleep.
And what about the moments you share with people. Are these moments not precious knowing that they might be the last time you ever experience them? That might be the last time I have a drink and tell stories with my friends. That might be the last time I play a game with them and have a laugh. That might be the last time I hear that terrible joke, but like the joke anyway because it was so terrible. That might be the last time I help a friend move stuff to a new place. Or the last time I wish someone a good night. Or the last time I kiss or spoon someone. Or the last time I lift weights and eat peanut butter (perish the thought).
On top of life being less precious to me, I feel I would be very alone if I were immortal. Knowing that you will never die. Knowing that you are going to experience emotional pain forever. Knowing that you are going to live through the life and deaths of your friends, your family, your children, your children’s children, forever. I don’t think I could bare the constant pain of loss like that, knowing that I will outlive everyone I meet and have an emotional connection to.
So for me, mortality butter all the way baby.
I’d like to hear others thoughts on this topic. What jar would you pick, and why?
– Sash
Sash Mindflow 